



> 

\ 

> 

,» 

■> 
! 





i- J^.r. -,.._, J-^. ^- 






































^0 v\ , : 




4 o 



'* ''-«^^'* -"*-' 
>, 



%.^^ ■ - J*^m- "%/ :"^-- \./ yiMM, '\^ 



REMINISCENCES 
OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

1848 

A History of the Founding of Webster City, Iowa 



Narrated by 

Sarah Brewer-Bonebright 

Written by her daughter 

Harriet Bonebright-Closz 



Copyright by the Author 
Webster City, Iowa 



Historical Department of Iowa 

Des Moines 

1921 



r c 



aiil 2H 1923 



C1A752288 



DEDICATED 

To 

Emma Helme-Stratton, 

Friend of my youth and mature years, 
whose unfailing friendship, steadfast devotion and 
constant encouragement have furnished a full 
measure of inspiration for these reminis- 
cent pages of pioneer life. 

The Author. 



TABLE OP CONTENTS 

PAGE 

List of Illustrations v 

Publisher's Note viii 

Preface x 

Foreword — by the Author xiv 

Reminiscences of Newcastle, Iowa, 1848 — 

Chapter 

I. Making' the Trip to Iowa 1 

II. Permanent Location and Early Enterprise. . . 17 

III. Cabin Buildino— Beds ' 29 

IV. Illumination — Cabin Conditions 39 

V. Preparation for Farming- 50 

VI. Hunting and Trapping — Weapons 57 

VII. Early Professional Men 87 

VIII. Indian Reciprocitv 94 

IX. Platting of Newcastle 103 

X. Modes of Traveling 128 

XI. Home and Field Occupation 135 

XII. Accidents, Births, Weddings, Deaths 154 

XIII. Women's Work 169 

XIV. Home Manufacture 202 

XV. Unusual Weather Conditions 213 

XVI. Medicinal Preparations 226 

XVII. Charms, Signs and Other Remedies 240 

Appendices 

I. Biographical — Wilson Brewer 255 

II. In Loving Memory of My Father — Poem 259 

III. Brassfield Version of Lott-Indian Tragedies. .260 

IV. Author's Note on Iowa Indian Troubles 272 

V. Poems by — Harriet M. Bone- 

bright-Closz 

The Iowa Log Cabin 284 

The State of Iowa 289 

The Cat-Hole in the Door 291 

Loitering Amid the Old Scenes 293 

The Old Brass Candle Molds 296 

The Women 's Work 299 

The Linsev-Woolsey Dress 301 

The Old Grindstone 305 

The Dugout 307 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Wilson Brewer, Sarah Brewer-Bonebright, 

Margaret Moore-Brewer Page 

Harriet Bonebright-Closz, Sarah Bonebright- 



lowa Immigrants 

Hunting Dogs 

Royal Stag 

Hunting Shelter, and a Day 's Kill— 1849 

Boulder Mill Burrs — Log Canoe 

Frow — Maul — Broadax 

Fii*eplace 

Cradle — Bed 

Types of Illuminants 

Weapons and Hunting Accessories 

Wolves 

Game and Other Animals 

Fur Bearing Animals 

Utensils for the Cabin 

Star-Point, a Pottawattamie Portrait 

Tools and I^tensils for Farming 

Jerking Venison 

Cooking Utensils 

Soap-Making Utensils 

Tools and Utensils for Spinning and Weaving . . 
Tools and Utensils for Spinning and Weaving. . 
Tools and Utensils for Spinning and Weaving. . 

Oldtime Loom 

Grindstone 

Last Herd of Deer, 1853 

Iowa Log Cabin 

Major Brassfield at the Age of 83 



VI 

vii 

xviii 

10 

12 

16 

19 

30 

34 

37 

41 

59 

62 

71 

81 

85 

93 

131 

145 

171 

182 

186 

189 

191 

196 

209 

217 

254 

263 




o 

PQ 
H 

O 

^^ 

H 

pq 
<^ 





SARAH BREWER-BONEBRIGHT, 
84TH YEAR, NARRATOR. 



HARRIET BONEBRIGHT-CLOSZ, 
AUTHOR. 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE. 

Carved on the lintel of one of the great state structures 
at Des Moines are the words IOWA HISTORICAL MEMO- 
RIAL AND ART BUILDINC. They impart the scope and 
depth of interest our state takes in her people of the past, 
present and future. In directing the activities of this De- 
partment of state government the Curator publishes or en- 
courages the publication of pertinent facts and traditions 
of all eras of state and territorial history and promotes 
their use in Iowa schools, libraries and publications. It is 
believed that to successfully discharge this one of the many 
responsibilities of the office is to promote love of home, 
state and nation, a passion which throughout history has 
stood a silent guardian at each post of peril to human 
liberty. No one can measure the effect of admiration for 
domestic and public idols, formed from the folk-lore and 
legends in the character of the world's heroes in war, saints 
in religion, leaders in enterprise. And nearly all these, 
in America, have had their idols from the period within 
or very near the establishment of home life on the 
virgin soil. 

Iowa settlements were of men with axe in one hand 
and rifle in the other, leading families into life without 
convenience; of women following gladly away from life 
with comfort, often luxury. Children bred here where 
there were few if any markets, churches, courts of record, 
means of transportation of persons, property or intelli- 
gence, no matter what their antecedents, their race or lan- 
guage, witnessed and often encountered ills and hazards 
making of later battles and achievements mere matters 
of course. On every acre of the Iowa frontier occurred 
acts of moral and physical heroism, noble if not bloody, 
as yet unsymbolized in art, inadequately portrayed in 
literature. 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA ix 

Our heroic era of the Civil war laid down its mass 
of precious historical materials upon a period that was 
without spectacular achievement, an understanding of that 
earlier time is now extremely difficult. Life was without 
mails, telegraphs, railroads, markets or manufactures as 
they are organized today. Records of beginnings on Iowa 
soil are all too scarce and meagre. The historian delves 
ardently but fruitlessly in most repositories for ample aids. 
The thin stratum of evidence of civilized life in Iowa of 
the old wagon days grows thinner with the years, and is 
enriched with the appearance of the present volume of 
narratives by one of our pioneers through the faithful writ- 
ing of her devoted daughter. 

The Historical Department of Iowa, therefore, sponsors 
the appearance of this book as so much evidence so sadly 
wanting of a day and time with which all are concerned. 
It disclaims all credit for the labor and expense, for the 
responsibility for style, scope and matter of this modest 
work. It is well worth while. Its contributors may well 
take the greatest satisfaction in having done a public duty 
while they performed a pleasant personal task. 

Edgar R. Harlan, Curator, 
Historical Department of Iowa, 
Des Moines. 
July 26, 1921. 



PREFACE. 

The fact that this volume is published under the aus- 
pices of the Historical Department of the state of Iowa is 
evidence of its real historical value, as well as the general 
accuracy of statement contained therein. It is written in an 
attractive style, and possesses literary merit in a high de- 
gree. 

The conditions depicted in the pages of this work are, 
no doubt, typical of many communities, and they illustrate 
the struggles and hardships of the pioneer in conquering 
the wilderness; nor was that life all struggle and hardship; 
there were many compensations. Life was full and free, 
self-reliance was a necessity, the blight of selfishness and 
the greed of the money-grubber were conspicuously absent, 
and the inter-dependence of the pioneers encouraged and 
developed a friendship and a spirit of helpfulness and co- 
operation which stand out in refreshing contrast to the 
narrow commercialism of the present day. All the finest 
qualities were developed in pioneer life. Courage, self- 
reliance, honesty, hospitality, perseverance, patience and 
kindness were pioneer virtues. Individualism came into 
flower, and the result was a hardy race of strong, independ- 
ent, capable, resourceful men and women. 

The work of preserving a permanent record of the pio- 
neer life of such a community is seldom attempted. In this 
instance, it is done comprehensively and well, and one feels 
in reading each succeeding chapter that the account is a 
truthful one, and from first-hand information. There is 
not a dull chapter in the book, and the story shows clearly 
the early life and times as they actually were. There are 
few living at the present time who have the faintest concep- 
tion of the labor, sacrifices and accomplishments of the 
early settlers. 

The narrative by Mrs. Bonebright, daughter of the 
founder of Newcastle, or Webster City, as it is now called, 
is written by her daughter, Harriet Closz, and is a faithful 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA xi 

presentation of the recollections of her mother. Much of 
it has been verified by a search of contemporaneous rec- 
ords and talks with surviving pioneers, as in the chapter on 
remedies for diseases. 

There are some chapters in the book, which aside from 
the narrative, possess a philosophical and literary value, 
notably the chapter on the relations of the Whites and the 
Indians. It must always be borne in mind in considering 
these relations and in weighing the common opinion on this 
subject, that the Indians had no opportunity to state their 
side of the case. The Spirit Lake Massacre never would 
have taken place had the Indians in Iowa been treated as 
they were treated by William Penn. 

Webster City and Hamilton County furnished one of 
the companies which visited the scene of the massacre, and 
Mr. Thomas Bonebright, husband of the narrator, was rec- 
ognized by the thirty-fifth general assembly of the state of 
Iowa as one of the honored survivors of the expedition. 

The account given as Major Brassfield's of the Lott af- 
fair, may be called hearsay, but those living who know the 
writer and knew the original narrator, accept it as the truth, 
and it possesses a high historical value. It is complete and 
probably is the most connected portrayal of the doings of 
Lott, and is illustrative of his strong antipathy to the In- 
dians. There have been other pioneers who had this 
strange, unreasoning hatred of the redman, notably the 
Brady's and other Kentucky pioneers. The reputation of 
Major Brassfield and Mrs. Bonebright for veracity renders 
this statement of untold value in clearing up the Lott affair, 
which has long been a puzzle to investigators. It also bears 
strongly on the motive for the Spirit Lake Massacre. 

Much credit also is due to the Curator of the Historical 
Department, E. R. Harlan, who has sponsored the work, 
and furnished many illustrations, valuable suggestions and 
expert advice on various subjects. The spirit in which Mr. 
Harlan has extended his assistance deserves more than pass- 
ing notice. 



xii REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

A work of this kind could be widely used as a text and 
reference book in our common schools. The account as 
it appears in these pages of the sterling qualities devel- 
oped by self-reliant pioneers is a wholesome lesson, and 
should be of great value in forming the character of the 
youth of our generation. 

It is fortunate that this simple record of pioneer life 
and achievement can be handed down to successive genera- 
tions who live in this county. Seldom is such a thing pos- 
sible, and never to my knowledge, has it been better done. 
It has a value far beyond the confines of this community. 
It fills a gap which generally is neglected, and has a his- 
torical importance which is state-wide and permanent, and 
which increases in importance as the years go on. 

In these days of comfort and luxury few realize the 
life of those who first saw the woods and prairies of this 
beautiful state, who enjoyed to the full the fragrant woods, 
the wild-flowers, the fish and game, the pure air and clear 
water, the wild fruits and nuts which abounded everywhere 
in those days, and which have almost wholly vanished never 
to return. 

In placing these early scenes and the early life of the 
pioneer before the eyes of present and future generations, 
Mrs. Bonebright and Mrs. Closz have performed a notable 
service. To the pioneer we owe much of what we enjoy 
today. 

All honor to the sturdy pioneer, 

The prime explorer of the wondrous West; 

A broad and crowded thoroughfare is here 

Where led the narrow path his foot first pressed. 

A love of Nature's beauty stirred his blood; 

A wanderlust that hurried him along 
To brave the lurking foe, the fire and flood. 

But he was patient, resolute and strong. 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

His prairie schooner crossed the trackless wild 
To halt at last in some sequestered place; 

Some shelter by a stream yet undefiled, 
Mayhap the seat of a forgotten race. 

His lowly cabin in the clearing stood ; 

Of logs rough hewn, and puncheon floor of oak. 
Late riven from the giants of the wood, 

And fashioned by his axe's cunning stroke. 

Alone he wrought; sufficient for the day; 

As free as air, and equal to his need; 
His manly spirit never owned the sway 

Of vice or envy, luxury or greed. 

He lit the torch; he blazed the lonesome trail; 

Crusader with the vision of the seer! 
High courage his; deep faith that could not fail; 

All honor to the sturdy pioneer! 

D. C. Chase. 
Webster City, Iowa, 
August 29, 1920. 



FOREWORD. 

(DICTATED BY SARAH BREWER-BONEBRIGHT.) 

These reminiscences are recorded in the first person, 
because I believe the bond of personal interest may be 
strengthened and the touch of human sympathy sustained 
by pursuing that course. 

Except in a few instances which touch our family life, 
I restrict the record to the years immediately following 
our advent into Iowa, in 1848, before the fuller flow of 
immigration had begun. I confine myself to the activities 
and incidents which have not been related in other records 
of our city, for later historians are numerous and their 
work has been voluminous and painstaking. 

I make no claim for absolute accuracy in dates. Peri- 
ods marking life epochs such as moving, building, births, 
weddings or deaths always were vividly impressed, and 
other incidents arrange themselves approximately in order. 
The first few years were the best memory markers. I was 
young, active, alert, and anything of importance was men- 
tally recorded without effort. Exceptional happenings 
were not numerous, when compared with the present, but 
many of the events of early years are clearer to me today 
than those of the past decade. 

There is, in this account at least, the advantage of first- 
hand narrative which eliminates hearsay evidence and 
obviates, in a large degree, the possibility of inaccuracy 
which easily may creep into often-related second-hand 
statements. 

These reminiscences may savor somewhat of family 
history, but such early recital could not be otherwise; for 
our family alone, made the initial journey to what now is 
Webster City, and the home of Wilson Brewer furnished 
the objective point for a community nucleus. My father 
was the moving spirit in securing and locating additional 
settlers during the first few years after our arrival. 

The pioneer privations of one family were duplicated 
by all others for more than a decade, and there was no 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA xv 

social preferment. The few hunting and trapping exploits 
recounted herein, with the members of my own family as 
the star actors, are related because I am more familiar 
with these particular ones than with the many others, which 
perhaps were quite as picturesque or as perilous. 

I shall not endeavor to follow the details of the settle- 
ment of Homer and Fort Dodge. I made only occasional 
trips to those hamlets, and during the intervals of absence 
there was the usual shifting of scenes which I cannot accu- 
rately record. 

The population of a town was not numbered by its 
group of residents, but the families throughout the country 
were listed to the different towns. In referring to New- 
castle, now Webster City; Fort Clark, now Fort Dodge; 
Liberty, now Goldfield ; or to Homer, Hook's Point, Boons- 
boro or Batch Grove, the names simply are to designate 
parts of the country occupied, for these settlements were 
not officially named until some time after our arrival. 

The land office was opened in Des Moines in 1852. 
Prior to that time it was necessary to file claims at Wash- 
ington, D. C. My father's first entry — according to advice 
from the Department of the Interior — was the southwest 
quarter of the northwest quarter of section 7, township 88, 
north, range 25, west of the fifth P. M. Entry number 
6131, July 1, 1851. The early settlers, however, fre- 
quently staked claims which were sold for ridiculously 
small amounts, and these squatters' names do not appear on 
the papers patent. 

Many land seekers came west, located claims, and 
returned to the east for one or two years, perhaps longer. 
There was very little claim jumping, however. For a long 
time many of our neighbors were from one to twenty miles 
apart. They were more or less dependent on each other, 
and many were quite as friendly and jovially familiar as 
members of the same family; hence, I express no discour- 
tesy in designating them as: "Jack," "Bill," "Alec," 



xvi REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

"Rube," "Walt," or "Bob" instead of by their longer and 
more euphoneous appellations. 

The details of the pioneer days of Newcastle — the 
early comers and their habitations, the hardships and pri- 
vations of isolation, the primitive inadequacy of house and 
farm implements, the exposure in rigorous weather during 
hunting, trapping and travel trips — are almost unbeliev- 
able by a generation moving along modern lines. 

Accounts of the generosity and helpful spirit of pio- 
neers have become proverbial; although one now may 
doubt the wisdom of such open-handedness especially after 
the taverns were ready for business. Foodstuffs were 
scarce and difficult to procure, but they were dispensed 
freely by us. Whether it be a credit to business judgment 
or not, I have followed our family custom and never have 
charged a single cent for meals or lodging during my 
lifetime. 

I shall have to admit, after taking a retrospective view, 
that much of our work could have been made easier by the 
practical use of brains instead of brute strength. The hard- 
est, most grueling, grinding toil, the most laborious and 
unceasing methods were always and everywhere in favor, 
when viewed from the present outlook. It appears to have 
been necessary that we receive at first hand an application 
of the principle that: nothing is effective as an educator 
except it be sufficiently difficult to impress itself upon the 
mind; no local or larger constructive agency can be made 
available except through the growing pains which expand 
and make possible the new order of things. 

Looking at the past through the glasses of the present 
it may be somewhat difficult to understand the pioneers 
who gazed undaunted upon the uncompromising visage of 
nature, and braved the angry, inhospitable elements. The 
humorist may dispose of the subject by declaring: "They 
were possessed of more courage than common sense"; but 
the pathfinders, the empire-builders must have lifted the 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA xvii 

veil of future events and viewed the scene of opulence and 
opportunity which their privation and penury were to make 
possible. My only regret is: in leaving the East, we prac- 
tically closed schoolhouse doors for the children. 

Many of the surroundings and happenings of seventy 
years ago were painfully commonplace, when compared 
with the scientific concepts of today; and but for the fact 
that we have more than three-score years perspective, these 
reminiscences would have been unworthy the work of prep- 
aration. 



^c^CiA I^Aj^^-'^^ 




CHAPTER I. 

Making the Trip to Iowa. 

Five families with ox teams and covered wagons left 
Kokomo, Indiana, September 15, 1848, to make the long 
trip overland to Iowa. 

The company comprised the families of my father, 
Wilson Brewer; Thomas Long; Robert Palmer; William 
Stanley, a brother-in-law; and William Brewer, a nephew 
of my father. 

There were, in our family, six children ranging in 
age from a babe in arms to twenty years. William Stanley 
— "Uncle Billy" — fathered seven youngsters; one son, 
Nathan, was married just before leaving the Hoosier home; 
he made the trip with his father. William Brewer — "Little 
Bill" — had no children, but one or more of our boys or 
girls constantly were under his care during the journey. 
There were six lusty lads and two young women in the 
Thomas Long family, and Mr. and Mrs. Palmer had two 
children. 

Seventeen yokes of cattle, five prairie-schooners and 
a truck-wagon made up this emigrant train. Of this out- 

AN APPRECIATION AND EXPLANATION. 

My mother, Sarah Brewer- Bonebright, is a resident surviving member 
(1921) of the first family to locate m our present Webster City. She is the 
daughter of Wilson and Margaret Moore- Brewer, and was born in Henry 
county, Indiana, in 1837. 

I recount these reminiscences of my mother's early life as an acknowledgment 
of her sterling qualities of head and heart; as a tribute to her tireless effort and 
unfailing courage; as an expression of approval for her homely hospitality; as 
a measure of gratitude that the grandeur of motherhood grew large in our log 
cabin; and I lay in her hand this volume as a loving token of the good will she 
has dispensed with such unselfish prodigality. 



This book has been a long time in preparation. The same quantity of copy, 
written by the newspaper assignment method, could have been prepared in a few 
days. A reminiscent mood, however, cannot be coerced, hurried or directed; 
like any other worth while thing it must be spontaneous and take its own course. 

Intervals of weeks and months have elapsed with not a single line added to 
these pages; then a picture, an incident, a conversation, a newspaper story would 



2 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

fit, my father owned two wagons and eight yokes of oxen 
and cows. Twelve of the critters were driven regularly, 
and the four extra "cow-power" was distributed along the 
wagon train wherever the exigencies of transportation re- 
quired. Uncle Billy owned and rode a horse. 

Male members of the party who were old enough and 
able to walk, in turn tramped beside the teamsters dur- 
ing the day and slept on the open prairie at night. If the 
weather threatened a tent was raised. The women and 
small children occupied the covered wagons, and six weeks 
were consumed in making the journey which now requires 
but a day and night. 

Weather and Roads. 

The weather was fine and the trip not unpleasant. At 
the camping places father sought to interest the residents 
in our early Iowa adventure. We crossed the Mississippi 
River at Flint Hills, now Burlington, Iowa, and declared 
that we had reached the promised land. Directing our 
course toward the northwest, we reached Fort Des Moines 
the latter part of October. 

We found bad roads all along the route, although the 
rivers and sloughs were at low-water mark compared with 
the spring season. Many of the swamps seemed to be 
bottomless, which characteristic of Iowa topography has 
furnished the historian with a topic of perennial interest 
and amusement; for the highway commissioner, the paving 

awaken the sleeping past — open the closed doors and permit an intimate view 
and minute review of the life of half a century ago. 

The material herein has been sought diligently, and gathered piecemeal 
through the seasons of coming and going and close companionship with my mother. 

The pioneers of Iowa did not consider their life harder or their surround- 
ings more picturesque than any passing period develops; hence their reluctance 
to assume an attitude which smacks of seeking commendation for following a 
course which was chosen as a preference and pursued from inclination. 

Repetition, intervening pains or present pleasures have not enlarged the 
proportions of past hardships; rather have distance and discussion minimized 
their importance in the mind of my mother. With this predilection, it is but 
natural that many of the vital, the interesting, the ludicrous happenings of pioneer 
times may have escaped her memory. 

Harriet M. Bonebright-Closz. 



MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 3 

contractor and the good roads expert had not then begun 
operations upon the swamp-lands of this commonweahh. 

We crossed no railroads in the state, and not a wagon 
bridge contributed to our comfort or safety. All streams 
were forded, and sloughs of dubious proportions were 
"doubled" through; although frequently the teams were 
mired in the virgin muck of the Hawkeye prairie. Log 
chains and pry-poles often were brought into requisition 
and were as much a part of the paraphernalia of emigra- 
tion as the smithy's tools or the tar-bucket dangling at the 
rear from the wagon-reach. 

When there were particularly aggravated cases of be- 
ing stuck in the mud, the household goods were unloaded 
and carried to solid ground to lighten the pull for the oxen. 
For this work, slabs provided for the purpose, were placed 
one in front of another for the walking convenience of 
women and children. This method of transportation was 
slow and wearisome, but our party worked stoically and 
occasionally sang cheerful and hopeful songs. 

Blazing the Trail. 

Blazing trees — scalping a patch of bark which could 
be seen from one tree to another — was a forest meth- 
od of location; and a "point of timber" was a guide-post 
from miles distant. When traveling over an unknown piece 
of prairie, a tree or "rise of land" was sighted in a direc- 
tion to be taken by the company. If the distance was great 
a man was sent ahead as far as he could be signalled to the 
right or left. His location was lined up with the course 
already traversed, the main body came forward and the 
same work was repeated until the plain was crossed. Indian 
trails served us very little. 

My father was the path-finder on our trip from In- 
diana. He walked ahead of the wagon-train nearly the 
entire distance from our old home. He viewed the pros- 
pects for advance and directed the drivers by the routes 
which seemed to offer the least resistance. Incidentally, he 



4 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA ; 

I 

kept the company supplied with game which was shot on ; 
his scouting trips. 

Tall weeds or rushes were tied in standing bunches ' 

if the same course was to be re-traversed, and furrows often ' 
were plowed through unmarked low-grass levels. Bunches 

of bright colored wool tied to the rosin, artichoke or blue- j 

stem stalks were good guides across an expanse of waving ' 
meadow. 

Seventy years ago Iowa prairie vegetation was vigor- j 

ous and abundant. All over our present town site, espe- | 

cially the southeastern part, the grass was higher than a j 

man's head. East of Superior street a man on horseback j 

was just distinguishable making his way through the j 

marshy flat; and both north and south of town the hazel- ! 

brush grew in rank profusion. I 

Pioneer traveling, even in the best of weather, was j 

attended by discomfort and hazard, but traveling while a ! 

storm was in progress increased the peril an hundred fold. | 

j 

Fords. 1 

j 

Fording streams was one of the prils of pioneer j 
life. The ability of a pathfinder did not extend to improv- | 
ing roads. Once a trail was located it was followed across i 
side-hills that threatened to, and with an inexperienced ■ 
driver often did, upset the wagons; up and down bank- 
pitches that would have demoralized any motive power ex- '■ 
cept the deliberate oxen; through thickets and among trees : 
so close growing it was necessary to worm a way around j 
them. For many years these conditions were unchanged. ' 
Occasionally a tree was cut in the line of march, but the ; 
stump remained to straddle or bump into in passing. | 
When a creek or river was reached the train halted. I 
A scout "took up" the river and another "took down" it. i 
Locating a safe ford often was a day's work. At this dis- , 
lance I feel justified in asserting that none of them was 
safe. It was desirable, if a ford could be established on a ' 
spreading riffle, although that was not always possible. Tlie ; 



MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 5 

Stony bottom which characterized the riffle furnished solid 
footing, and an expansive surface indicated shallower wa- 
ter dian was found in the smooth-flowing narrow runs. 

An ox, and a man who was a good swimmer were cho- 
sen to try out a dubious looking ford. When dangerously 
deep the rider slipped off" the back and clung to the tail of 
the ox. If neither one was drowned the ford was pro- 
nounced safe. I do not remember that we crossed a river 
on our trip that did not swim the "critters." Our wagon- 
boxes all were calked against the contingency of just such 
wettings. We did not use the boat-shaped wagon box as 
some emigrants did. 

We could not always land opposite the point of starting. 
Often we made some distance up stream in the water to 
reach an accessible bank. At other times we were floated 
down stream by the force of the current in spite of our 
eff^ort to make the desired landing. We never were over- 
turned in the water, however. Some of the old fords still 
are used during low water periods. Foot-logs over small 
streams served the man a-foot. 

We remained in Des Moines several days; replenished 
the provision wagon, did the party washing, were enter- 
tained with horse-racing on the main thoroughfare during 
the day and at a public dance in the evening. Dr. Camp- 
bell furnished music for the occasion on a fiddle which he 
had purchased from a frontier scout. One of our party 
bantered the doctor for a trade, but the articles off^ered in 
exchange were worth only about fifteen dollars and the 
owner wanted twenty dollars for the violin. 

Des Moines Town Lots. 

I clearly recollect the delegation that visited our party 
while we were encamped near the settlement. They offered 
business inducements for us to remain with them. We 
learned later that when Des Moines was platted, lots sold 
for $7.50 apiece, payments to be made annually in one 
dollar installments. Many Iowa towns have passed through 



6 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

seasons of muddy streets. It has, however, been reported 
of Des Moines that through the springtime the mud in 
Walnut street rose and fell with the tide, and that skiffs 
were towed about the center of the Capitol city during high 
water. 

The early settlers of Des Moines included the Messrs. 
Bryant, Scott, Sturtevant, Cassady, Kinsey, Newcomer, 
Rankin, Cypher, Moore, Sherman, McHenry, Dicks, Clapp, 
Dr. James Campbell, who later became well known in our 
community, Rev. Thompson Bird, Barlow Granger, later 
of Granger's Grove, and Alexander Turner, who soon came 
to Homer. 

Thomas Long and family of our party, having had 
quite enough experience in traversing the western prairies, 
accepted the business proffer of the delegates and remained 
in Des Moines. My father, however, signified his intention 
of continuing the journey; after a consultation the other 
emigrants, except Long, decided to accompany us. 

On our way northward we camped where were, after- 
ward, the trading posts of Boonsboro and Hook's Point. 
We were entertained at the latter place by Major Brass- 
field, who, the previous season, had arrived in what now 
is Hamilton county. 

Our First Location. 

We located on the Boone river the first week in Novem- 
ber, about six miles south of Webster City; my father 
selecting and staking his claim to include what now is 
known as Bone's mill site, S. W. 1/4 31-88-25. Along the 
ravine our party constructed rude log cabins, which, with 
pole-supports for thatchings of bark, provided compara- 
tively comfortable shelter. Nature smiled upon us the 
fall of 1848, the weather was ideal and not a flake of snow 
fell until after New Year Day. Christmas was close at 
hand when the four cabins were completed and the log 
stables, surrounded with brush corrals, were ready as shel- 
ter for the cattle. Every one worked with a will. Some 



MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 7 

of the men were delegated to cut a supply of hay from the 
already dry fields of prairie-grass; others were detailed to 
provide wild game-animals for food, and all participated 
in the work of wood chopping and grubbing. 

First Birth of a Boy. 

Locating on this site was a bit premature, and there- 
fore, not a permanent home for our family; but "the com- 
ing events" which "cast their shadows before," caused us 
to halt the onward march at this place. One day attended 
by great activity of the women in camp. Little Bill Brewer 
was presented with a son. The child was called Bryant, 
and he was the first boy born in Hamilton county. 

First Settler in Hamilton County. 

The first settler within the present limits of Hamilton 
county was Minter Brassfield, of Kentucky. He came to 
Iowa with his family in the fall of 1847. They located at 
Hook's Point, and for several years their cabin home was 
a stopping place of interest when members of our family 
made trips to Des Moines. The visits of the Brassfields 
at our home always were anticipated with pleasure by old 
and young. Twenty-five years later, my own family of 
growing children were delighted at the prospect of a visit 
from the Major, and his appearance was a joyful assurance 
to the youngsters that tales of pioneer times were to be 
recounted. 

Our neighbor from the south gained his title from a 
hunt in the hills of Kentucky. The hunting party agreed 
that the one who bagged the most game should receive the 
title of "Major." The youngest member of the company 
won the honor and thereafter was known as Major Brass- 
field. 

Mrs. Brassfield, a woman of culture and refinement, 
was the daughter of a southern planter who owned a long 
retinue of slaves. From ease and opulence to the priva- 
tions of pioneering was a marked change in her life, but 



8 IJKMIXISCKXSES OF NEWCASTLE. IOWA 

^^iIli;ll^-luuuu\l aiul without s.M\ants. Mis. BrasslieLl oour- 
aiiomisly aiul uiU'omplainini::ly assunuHl l\\c oomplox duties 
iui'iilout to liousohoKl niauagoniont and tho roaring of a 
lariio tainilv. 

lears later Mrs. Brassfiold was afflicted with eye trou- 
ble. Ihe mother diil not see the taee of her youngest 
iiaiighter Kate, until the ehiKl ^\as four vears old. Her 
sight was restored alter treatment by the veteran oculist, 
Dr. James Campbell, of Des Moines. 

The pioneer Iriendship initiated bv Major Brassfiekl 
and W ilson Brewer has endured through four generations. 
His daughters and 1 were fast friends and his grand and 
great grandchildren and mine are appreciative com- 
panions. 

Some time ago one of Iowa's small town papers con- 
tained a ludicrous, although convincing account of an earlv 
settler. It said: "Mr. was the initial, first pio- 
neer in this section, coming here before anvone else." The 
exclamation olten was heard when W ilson Brewer and 
Major Brassfield were seen together: "There go tlie two 
first settlers." The ambiguous expression easilv could be 
made clear, however. Brassfield was die first settler in 
Hamilton conntv. and Brewer the first settler in \\ ebster 
City. 

Soon alter the Major's removal to W right countv. men- 
tioned elsewhere. Mrs. Brassfield died. Several years 
passed and the Major married Mrs. Montgomery, motlier 
of Alfred Montgomery, the well known Iowa painter of 
sheep and corn. 

First Deer Killed. 

My father was a party ot the first part, at the Bone's 
mill site location, in what now would be called "easv 
money" game-takes: altliough at tliat time the revenue from 
venison and iur-bearing animals was a disappearing quan- 
tity since neither the long nor the short haul was practi- 
cable. \^ e owned the lariie number ot doss which usually 



MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 9 

is apportioned to the poor man. Three fine coon dogs. 
Colonel. Cap and Maje: a bulldog. Lockjaw: and two grey- 
hounds, Typ and Tyler, both good runners as were the 
political leaders for whom they were named. The common 
curs we did not count. 

One night after the family had retired, the fierce bay- 
ing of the hounds indicated an attack on some unfortunate 
animal. Father sprang out of bed, grasped his flint-lock 
muzzle-loader, drew back the portiere — a quilt hung at 
the opening — and from the doonvay shot a deer which the 
dogs had crippled by severing the hamstring with their 
teeth — a very eflfective hunting method of greyhounds. A 
crippled deer always fared badly if the bulldog accompa- 
nied the pack. His point of attack was the head or neck, 
and often the brisket was torn to ribbons or the nose chewed 
to a pulp before the hunter could reach the %"ictim and 
drive off the dogs. This first specimen was a beautiful 
young creature that probably never had seen the habitation 
of man. and therefore did not recognize the arrival of a 
persistent and relentless enemy. 

Nine Coons Caught. 

One morning while the boys were tethering the cows 
and oxen. Typ and Tyler "picked up" a coon trail. The 
young men followed the dogs, with gim and axes, to a 
near-by hollow tree which was felled, and nine of the ani- 
mals were captured and brought home alive. 

Coons were so numerous that, in addition to living in 
the hollow trees, they made their nests in the great tufts 
of prairie-grass in the vicinity of what now is Pleasant 
Hill, and eastward around Mud Lake was a favorite haunt. 
The prettv creatures easily were located in their grassy 
homes by the dogs, and readily could be killed or captured 
by the hunters. 

The most favorable time for coon-hunting was after 
nightfall or before daybreak. Finely splintered ends of 
shakes were lighted as torches, and served to illuminate the 



10 



REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 11 

trail and the field of operations. For several years coon- 
skins sold in Des Moines for less than fifty cents each. 
Hundreds of coons were killed by our hunters. 

Royal Stag. 

There were so many deer that during our early seasons 
fresh or cured venison was the leading article on our daily 
menu. A few days after our arrival the track of the first 
"big game" was sighted by Roll Brewer and Tom Stanley, 
at a point near the spring in the Church "holler" at the 
Silver's farm. The beast was followed northward by devi- 
ous wanderings to near where the Country Club house now 
is located. Night overtook them and the boys decided to 
give up the chase until daybreak. 

While talking over their plans an animal which was 
resting near the river, sprang forward along the steep 
incline only a few yards from the hunters. Tom fired; but 
in the fast-falling darkness his aim was untrue. Roll cov- 
ered the fleeing creature with his gun, waiting for him to 
reach the crest of the hill against the horizon, knowing if 
the animal were a deer he would tarry a moment at the 
top to survey the surroundings. This pause of a few sec- 
onds was the sportsman's opportunity; and five minutes 
later the young men were removing the skin of this splen- 
did forest creature. 

The happy hunters severed the antler trophy from the 
skull of the animal and a choice cutlet was taken from the 
carcass as an evidence of good faith for the family at 
home. The antlers from this stag still are in the possession 
of our family. They have the double crown of crockets, 
which represent the seventh year. 

Paramount Problem. 

For several seasons our paramount problem was suste- 
nance. True, the same problem exists today, but not in the 
naked aspect of the pioneer period. It was necessary to 
produce food at first hand, or by a hundred-mile haul. 



12 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




ROYAl. STAG. 



MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 13 

which represented days of exposure to the elements and 
possible danger from wild animals or Indians. 

Diligence and industry readily supplied the demand 
for heat and meat; so, to prepare for the next season's crop 
was our immediate concern. Small patches of prairie sod 
were plowed for spring corn and grain, and the hazel-brush 
plots were grubbed for buckwheat, potatoes and garden 
truck. 

The seed-potatoes brought with us were holed-up, or 
down, beyond the possibility of injury from frost; our 
other seed supplies, obtained from Des Moines during the 
winter, prepared us for the spring planting. The virgin 
soil responded with splendid abundance; the crop of the 
following season was a wonderfully satisfactory one and 
we were relieved of the necessity for many long trips and 
the worry of want for the winter. 

Not always were we so fortunate with crops. There 
were dry and wet seasons with the result of absolute fail- 
ure of harvests together with the loss of seed and labor. 

Marshall County Settlers. 

The year after we left our old home, a party of about 
twenty-five followed us from Indiana. They were the Will- 
iam Ellsbury, John Arney, James Boyle and Henry Hauser 
families. They covered the same route, and were to have 
continued their journey to the Boone valley; but sickness 
of some of the party prevented, and they located in Mar- 
shall county. 

The first wedding of the community took place in the 
fall of 1849, to which ceremony my parents were invited. 
The bride was Elizabeth Boyle, the bridegroom William 
Arney. I believe there still are members of these families 
residing in Marshalltown. 

Our summer sojourn at Bone's mill site location, 1849, 
was enlivened by a detachment of soldiers, who passed our 
way and pitched their tents with our party. They were 
acting under the orders of Colonel Mason, and were the 



14 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

advance inspection guard who were to recommend the loca- 
tion of a military base. The site was chosen on the Des 
Moines river; and in August of the following year Fort 
Clark — now Fort Dodge — was located. Major Samuel 
Woods, with the Sixth United States Infantry, was detailed 
to this fort; and scouting parties occasionally visited "Hope 
Hollow," our new home. The fort was maintained until 
1853, when the soldiers were removed to Fort Ridgley, 
Minnesota. 

Wedding. 

The visits of the military detail started the vibration of 
wedding bells in our midst. A young soldier, John 
Drought, and my cousin, Lucretia Stanley, became very 
good friends; and in the summer of 1850 the couple were 
married. 

Our family by this time had moved farther north, but 
communication between our relatives was frequent. The 
wedding preparations were prolonged and impressive. 
There was a minister at Swede Bend, on the Des Moines 
river; but his services were not secured; so Reverend 
Thompson Bird, who doubtless wished that he could fly, 
was brought from Des Moines to perform the ceremony. 
Elder Bird made the trip on horseback. On the way he 
was compelled to wade through several sloughs, and when 
he arrived his appearance was not that of our well-groomed, 
present-day parson. His look of resignation, however, 
indicated that he was quite ready to accept the dictum of 
the Master that: "In heaven there is no marrying or giv- 
ing in marriage." The minister was to be paid for his 
services with coonskins — when the hides were "ripe" — so, 
his prospects for remunerative returns were not alluring. 

The wedding ceremony, to my youthful mind, was sol- 
emnly awe-inspiring despite the gay jollity, the even hila- 
rious spirit manifested by the many attendants. The Mar- 
shall County contingent had been invited, as were the vari- 
ous recently located neighbors. There were present mem- 



MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA 15 

bers of the families of Brassfield, Mericle, Spaulding, War- 
ner, Russell, Stall, Woolsey, Hogan, Turner and Kinnett; 
also a squad of soldiers from Fort Clark, who forgot for 
a day the rules of army discipline. The wedding-feast 
consisted of fish, venison, corn dodger and "garden-sass," 
with dessert of wild berries. The dining was done in the 
shade of the immense trees in the yard, and the dancing 
on the circular clearing around the cabin. "Ans" Brass- 
field fiddled furiously throughout the evening; and, as 
sleeping accommodations were limited, the guests "danced 
all night till broad daylight" and returned to their homes 
in the morning. 



16 



REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




HUNTING SHELTER ON HOGSBACK, 1S49. 




ONE DAY'S KILLING. 



CHAPTER II. 
Permanent Location, and Early Enterprises. 

My father and brothers, during the late fall of 1849, 
prospected northward. They opened a trail along the river 
and built a hunting-shack on the bottom-ground near Hog's- 
Back. This log teepee was used for shelter only on pros- 
pecting and hunting trips. It was arranged by standing 
the logs on end in an A-shape, chinking the cracks and cov- 
ering the apex and the door openings with raw deerskins. 

The location was chosen because it had been the camp- 
ing-place of Indians who had cleared the underbrush and 
left sufficient material for constructing shelter. For many 
years afterward this wooded bottom was a rendezvous for 
numbers of roving but friendly dusty-noses, who hunted, 
fished or trapped along the river or big slough. 

The First Cabin. 

The first log cabin for the family within the present 
corporate limits of Webster City, was built by Wilson 
Brewer on the bank of Brewer's creek. It was located 
almost directly south of our present residence on the Bone- 
bright homestead, about twenty-five rods south of Ohio 
street, and nearly midway between Superior street and the 
Chicago and Northwestern railway. This cabin had a dirt 
floor-surface, and the roof was fashioned from strips of 
bark. 

We celebrated the holidays by moving to this location. 
The families of Little Bill Brewer, Bob Palmer and Uncle 
Billy Stanley remained at Bone's mill site. 

The creek at that time furnished a full and constant 
supply of water for stock and laundry purposes. It did not 
go dry as in recent years. The drinking and cooking water 
we "toted" from the spring near the Chase mill site. 



18 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

We remained at this place during the winter; and in 
the spring we erected another cabin on what now is known 
as the Eyer place — at the head of Millard's lane. This 
building spot was chosen on account of its splendid water 
supply. The hillside spring seems to have been inex- 
haustible, as it has poured forth its bounty of pure water 
for over seventy years. 

When we were located at this place Bob Palmer joined 
us and occupied our vacated hut until his return to Des 
Moines in 1851. The structure afterward was used for a 
stable. 



First Garden Raised. 

The plowing for garden truck, buckwheat and Indian 
corn was done by Jack Brewer; but because of the extreme 
toughness of the prairie-sod, patches of underbrush were 
cleared for the planting. Thorough grubbing and removal 
of brush roots usually prepared a very fair seed-bed and 
a very rich one, with less labor — at least for the oxen. It 
has been declared, perhaps facetiously, that a yoke of oxen 
could have been hitched to an end of a prairie-sod turned 
by the plow, and a strip twenty rods long snaked from the 
field without breaking it in two. 

Our patch of garden truck was raised during 'the sum- 
mer of 1850, on the east side of the river opposite the Chase 
mill site. Log canoes were used to facilitate the work of 
carrying produce. 

Log Canoe. 

The fashioning of log canoes required considerable 
time and some degree of skill. A perfectly straight, or a 
long-curved smooth section of log was chosen. The bark 
was peeled and the ends shaped to the curved point desired. 
The upper surface of the log was slabbed off and the cavity 
outlined by adzing and chipping. The space thus formed 
was filled with live coals and the wood allowed to char. 



EARLY ENTERPRISES 



19 




^- 







■^'^^ 



BOULDER MILL-BURRS. 
LOG CANOE. 



20 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The burning process rendered the chopping and adzing 
much easier ahhough several burnings were necessary to 
complete the canoe. Care was required to prevent an over- 
charring which would have rendered the craft unsea- 
worthy. 

Log canoe transportation seemed to inspire no fear in 
the mind of the manipulator of pole or paddle, no matter 
what the condition of weather or quantity of water flowing. 

Our location now seemed to be satisfactory and father 
"took up" the land which includes our present home, the 
Chase mill site, the Stearns farm, the Swanson stone quarry, 
and extended to the river on the northern boundary of our 
present city. From this parcel original Newcastle was 
platted. 

The First Grist Mill. 

Our first grist mill, as with most pioneers, was the cof- 
fee-grinder, supplemented by the "grater" for soft corn. 
Instead of athletics or fancy-work the young people occu- 
pied the time by grinding the corn for the next baking of 
dodger. When company was present, some member of the 
family continuously manipulated the coffee-mill; and fre- 
quently the frugal housewife who came to visit brought 
along an apron full of com to grind for her own use. For 
many years corn-dodger was the staff of life. White wheat 
fiour could be procured in but small quantities which was 
consumed only on state occasions. The coffee-mill was not 
a satisfactory machine for grinding the wheat berry, as the 
cogs required too frequent clearing. 

Corn-Cracker Burrs and Mill. 

A log corn-cracker mill was built on the Chase mill 
site during the summer of 1850. For this mill, the burrs 
of flint-stone were dressed and put in place by Jack Brewer. 
The water-wheel and gearing were homemade and cumber- 
some; and if the river were low, which rarely befell, the 



EARLY ENTERPRISES 21 

burrs were turned by hand. This primitive process was far 
from satisfactory, for much of the coarse mass which 
passed between the stones required regrinding in the coffee- 
mill before it could be made into mush or pone. 

For several years this log mill was used as a general 
repair shop and blacksmithing center with Nate Stanley as 
assistant for anyone who needed work done. Ox-shoeing 
was necessary for activities on the ice, or for sleety 
weather. The steel shoes for oxen were made in two pieces 
instead of one, as for horses. There were, of course, two 
toe-calks for each shoe. It was somewhat difficult to fash- 
ion ox-shoes with the front calks at exactly an efficient 
angle. 

Mill-Dam, Fish-Trap. 

A dam of logs, brush and stones was extended across 
the river from the mill site, while the water was at its lowest 
in the summer. A runway was arranged in the dam and a 
fish-trap with a capacity of several barrels was placed at 
this lowered opening in the evening; in the morning it was 
full of fish. The trap was made from hickory-withes fas- 
tened with wooden pins and buckskin thongs. It resem- 
bled, somewhat, the large willow crates used for bulky mes- 
chandise. The openings were large enough to permit the 
escape of small fish. 

We selected for food no kinds except pike and bass, 
and these in sizes which yielded the highest return when 
dressed. Other specimens were returned to their natural 
element. Fish were speared through openings in the ice 
during the winter. They were dressed at once and hung 
up to freeze. Some of them were of immense size; if 
strung on saplings resting on the men's shoulders, their 
tails swept the ground. When hung in the smoke-house 
they extended from the ridge-pole to the solid clay-packed 
floor. Side pieces of hog-meat or fish were called flitches, 
and when fish was needed for cooking sections of the body 
were chopped off^ and immersed in water to thaw. Late in 



22 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

the spring a supply of fish was saked and smoked to carry 
us through the dog-days. 

I have read many fantastic fish stories. I have heard 
of the pioneer, the wheels of whose wagon were blocked in 
mid-river by fish and eels seeking to be captured; but he 
did not belong to our family. I am sure, however, that 
many of the fish which were rejected by us and returned 
to the river, would make our modern minnow-takers 
exclaim with envy that: "Izaak Walton's day is not our 
day." 

Seeking Settlers. 

Immediately after permanently establishing ourselves 
father notified his friends in the East, and at Davenport 
and Burlington, Iowa, and the other Mississippi river towns 
where he had enlisted workers to secure settlers for this 
part of the country. Several families that had followed 
us in 1849 and were headed for the Boone valley settle- 
ment, found us at our winter quarters at Bone's mill site, 
so they located at Homer, Among them were Jacob Mer- 
icle, his brother and sons, Dan Spaulding and son and sev- 
eral Swedish families. 

The following year, 1850, a similar situation arose; 
although we then were permanently located at Newcastle, 
the families of Orrin Warner, William Russell, John Stall, 
Ross Dalbey, Tom Hogan, Alex Turner and son Rob, after 
an inspection tour, decided that in case of Indian trouble 
it would be easier to procure help by way of the Des 
Moines river from Fort Dodge than from across the coun- 
try, so they cast their fortunes with Woolsey, the Bells and 
the small number of earlier settlers who formed the nucleus 
of Homer. Dalbey and Turner soon came to Newcastle, 
however. 

Sam Schultz, early in 1850, followed our trail and 
became one of our helpers. His cabin was erected across 
the river from the Chase mill site. The family of six boys 



EARLY ENTERPRISES 23 

and five girls was a welcome acquisition. We needed help 
and neighbors, and the Schultzes proved their worth in 
many ways. 

First Plowing for Crops. 

Soon after his arrival Sam Schultz was hired by father 
to plow ground on what was later the Bill Funk farm. 
The work was done in patches where the least clearing 
was required. Quite extensive preparations were made for 
the crops we expected to raise in 1851; but the season was 
too wet for growing them. 

My brothers Jack and Roll Brewer split rails to fence 
the home farm during the winter of 1850 and 1851. The 
first "worm" was placed by the men folk before the spring 
thawing; and my mother, with my assistance, completed 
its construction. 

Why a fence was deemed necessary I do not know, 
for our pigs roamed through the woods at will and grew 
fat on the abundance of mast. Our locality did not 
become famous as developing the razor-back or prairie- 
rooter. The oxen were kept busy with the work of improve- 
ment, so the crop was not in danger of being destroyed by 
four-footed depredation. 

Bird Pests. 

Had it been possible to provide protection from above 
instead of around a field, the work might have been effec- 
tive. When general cropping began the blackbird and wild 
pigeon pest was a serious one. Before the sun suffused 
the eastern horizon birds young and old, a million strong, 
would settle like a cyclone cloud upon the fields. From the 
time the tender leaves came forth and from the stage of 
roasting ears or heading grain, to the final husking, cra- 
dling and flailing, it was necessary for someone to patrol 
the fields and disturb the depredators by shooting into their 
midst with a rifle. The shotgun was not then in use and 



24 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

gun-firing seemed a slow, wasteful and ineffectual attempt 
at conservation. 

Wild geese, sand-hill cranes, wild turkeys and prairie 
chickens also were ambitious to assist the settlers in har- 
vesting their remnants of crops; but they were more timor- 
ous than the smaller, more active birds. Scare-crows, such 
as are seen today, would have furnished only a convenient 
resting place for the over-filled pigeon or blackbird. Noth- 
ing less than the twentieth century gatling gun could have 
cleared fields of the many beautiful, but greedy, specimens 
of ornithology. 

Deer Fields. 

When prospectors came to look the country over, the 
possibilities of game sport were shown off very easily. 
Along the eastern border of Millard's lane, where the grass 
grew tall and heavy, and extending to the skirting of timber 
along the river, was a rendezvous and browsing place for 
deer. 

Two or three of the boys would circle out, several rods 
apart and from the river make a rounding-up toward the 
west. A dozen, perhaps a greater number of deer would 
canter past our cabin within easy shooting range of father 
and the waiting prospector. To be able to shoot big game 
from one's dooryard was quite an inducement for an east- 
erner to locate with us. 

Rail fences offered but indifferent obstacles at these 
rounding-up exhibitions, except to small deer. The half- 
grown and full-grown animals cleared the fences without 
apparent effort. 

First Cabin on the Town Site. 

The first cabin, located near. our present home, was not 
of course, on the town site as later platted. The first cabin 
on the original town plat of Newcastle was built in the fall 
of 1851, by Wilson Brewer, for his sister, Nancy Brewer- 
Stanley. When the town was laid out the cabin was found 



EARLY ENTERPRISES 25 

to be standing directly in First street just east of Superior 
street near the present city market. It later was torn down 
and re-erected as a stable. 

First Day-School, First Sunday-School and Preaching 
Services. 

The first day-school and Sunday-school sessions and the 
first regular preaching services were held in the cabin of 
Nancy Stanley. Rev. Thompson Bird, of Des Moines, 
favored us with several sermons after the Stanley-Drought 
wedding. On his occasional trips he stopped at our house 
and, in good weather, preached under the spreading 
branches of the trees in the dooryard. Mrs. Wheeler was 
our day-school teacher, although the work was unusual for 
a woman at that time. I was not a constant attendant, but I 
remember Mrs. Wheeler as a sweet-faced, pleasant-voiced 
woman. 

The First Store-Keeper. 

The William Dickinson family arrived in the spring of 
1851 and located south of town on the Arth Millard place. 
They brought with them a supply of drygoods; my first 
calico dress, red with white dots, was purchased from them. 
This family conducted a regular supply-station for several 
years and made frequent trips to Des Moines and Dubuque 
in the interest of the busy settlers. 

John Maine came with the Dickinson family. Maine 
located on the north hill on what now is known as the Gra- 
funder farm. Pieces of prairie that were not too wet were 
prepared for planting, but the seed was not sown. 

The arrivals during the year included the families of 
Jewett, Jacks, Bonnett, Wheeler, Rhodes, Liesman, Brock, 
Brainard, Snyder, Crooks, Mills, Lyon, Tollman, Pierce, 
Johnson, Elder and Reverend Jamie Woods. The new 
arrivals who did not locate at Newcastle, distributed them- 
selves through the country to the west and southwest. My 



26 REMINiSCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

father and brothers assisted in preparing shelter for the 
early Newcastle arrivals, as well as in erecting the later 
trading-places and taverns. 

Extensive Prairie Breaking. 

Father, in the fall of 1851, hired Isaac Lyon, who 
arrived a year before his brother Peter, to break the prairie 
to the south and southwest of our cabin. The number one, 
prairie-upland hay was burned off and Uncle Ike, with five 
yoke of oxen and the assistance of his son Arth, turned over 
the largest acreage that then had been plowed in this section 
of the country. 

Beginning at the north opening into Millard's lane and 
extending along its western boundary represents the loca- 
tion where the regular breaking-plow, with its wooden 
mold-board and primitive motive power, did the first work. 
The next season, however, father secured the services of 
Jotham Lyon as breaker, and the whole area of our present 
city was broken. Thereafter much of the produce for imme- 
diate needs was raised. The long trips to market were . 
reduced in their frequency, such trips being necessary only 
to dispose of hides, furs and baskets, or to buy ammunition 
and incidental household luxuries. 

Other Early Arrivals. 

Soon after Sam Schultz arrived, John Butler came and 
chose his claim north of town. On this trip he stayed but a 
short time and returned to his former home to be married. 
Tom Mills squatted a few miles southwesi; of our settle- 
ment. Nathan Stanley and John Drought came up from 
Bone's mill site. Rube Bennett on his first trip, and Joe 
Peabody also joined us and later in the fall of 1850 Jim 
Jenkins' cabin was built east of the Dubuque street bridge 
at the crest of the hill. 

The location, although chosen by him, was declared to 
be the coldest spot in clu'istendom in winter but the fairest 
and finest in summer. After the death of Jenkins, Sr., by 



EARLY ENTERPRISES 27 

freezing, and the fatal accident to the son Philip, recorded 
elsewhere, the remaining memhers of the family returned 
to the East. Mrs. Jenkins regarded the cabin with super- 
stitious awe and requested that it be burned. After their 
departure the structure was filled and banked with inflam- 
mable material and fired. 

Our family was fortunate in having the minimum of 
fire losses. We lost nothing except isolated sheds, due to 
prairie fires, and an occasional necessary burning because 
of the over-sociability of skunks. 

Cabins often were torn down and re-erected in different 
locations, either for family use or for the stabling of stock. 
Many early settlers were housed together. There were 
many more families than cabins. 

First Wheat Raising. 

Our first wheat crop was raised on the Frank Huddle- 
ston farm. It was cut with a cradle and the uneven bunches 
were bound and shocked. Later in the season the bundles 
were hauled in, Indian fashion, on a large travy or travail. 
This contraption was made with a set of poles, two of which 
extended beyond the others and the upper ends were lashed 
to an ox, the lower ends dragged on the ground. Two feet 
from the lower ends the poles were laced together cris- 
cross, with rawhide or basswood bark. The load was 
placed on this network and snaked home. 

The flailed grain was hauled to a mill beyond Des 
Moines for grinding. The product was whole wheat meal, 
for the miller did not then separate bran, shorts or white 
flour. One quarter of the grist was retained by the grinder 
as toll. There was a grist-mill near the junction of the Des 
Moines and Boone rivers which began operations soon after 
our crop was disposed of. It was a primitive affair. The 
grinding-burrs had been dressed from granite boulers; but 
Billy Bruce did a rushing business in pulverizing buck- 
wheat and corn ; for by that time the settlers were arriving 
in greater numbers. 



28 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Early in 1852 Zeb Perkins, Amos Brewer, Peter Lyon, 
Jim Phipps, Sam Judy and others came to our town; and 
a little later in the season our numbers were increased by 
the arrival of the Turnham, Grosclose, Russell, Doty, 
Frakes, Bellville, Barkus, Fall, Downing and Prime fam- 
ilies. 

Further down the Boone and along the Des Moines 
river were the families of Ike Hook, Jesse Goodrich, Nels 
Omstead, Jim Brock, Tom Williams, John Whaley, Ben 
Bell, Wash Neese, George Andrews, Sam Eslick, Dave Car- 
roll, William Berkley and others. Quite a number passed 
the Homer, Fort Dodge, Newcastle triangle and located in 
Wright county. 

John Butler returned to us during the fall of 1852. 
With his five yokes of oxen he broke, for himself, parcels 
of land on the north of Newcastle. He also helped many 
of the settlers in clearing their wooded claims. In the log- 
rolling or stump-pulling contests which created great inter- 
est, Butler and his oxen usually secured the honors. 

The cabin of Butler was barely completed when a 
brush of wind lifted the roof and half buried it in the field. 
As he was north of the river, the horseshoe-bend protection 
did not serve him. 



CHAPTER III. 

Cabin Building, and Beds. 

Jack Brewer was esteemed an expert in the work of 
cabin construction. Uniformly shaped logs were selected 
if possible and they were laid out on the ground in the 
order to be raised. The chopping of notches at the ends 
of the logs to saddle or fit their fellows was called "taking 
up the comers." The upper timbers often projected to 
some length and were used for hanging household and field 
implements, stringing up an animal carcass or surface- 
drying a hide. 

A bullet attached to the end of a string suspended from 
each timber as it was raised furnished the method of even- 
ing or plum^bing. The shadow of a tree at noon was the 
rule for starting square with the world. Several tiers of 
logs were laid, and when building in winter, a fire was 
made at one end of the space to thaw the dirt, which mixed 
with water, supplied mortar to chink the cabin cracks. 
The excavation made the floor surface lower at one end 
than at the other, say, about a foot or a foot and a half ledge 
marked off" two-thirds of the floor-area. 

The logs were rolled up on skids with hand spikes — 
long slender poles — to a point as high as the men could 
reach; then with forked sticks they were lifted into place 
with the aid of steadying guide-ropes in the hands of men 
on the top tier. Before the gables were shaped to the proper 
slant, the hewn beams for rafters were placed at intervals 
across the log framework. 

Roofing. 

Two poles with top forks were set in the ground so the 
crotches corresponded to the gable peaks; in these the 



30 



REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




CABIN BUILDING AND BEDS 31 

ridge-pole was laid. Two parallel cross-center stays sup- 
ported the heavy shake roof. Shakes were pieces of oak 
boards from four to six feet in length, according to the 
size of the hut. They were rived from a hewn log with a 
frow — a large cleaving knife with the handle set at right 
angles with the blade. The frow was pounded into the log 
with a small maul or mallet and a section of wood about 
an inch thick, six or eight inches wide and the desired 
length was split off. The shakes overlapped like ordinary 
shingles. The lower ends often were loosely arranged so 
they might be pushed aside in fair weather for light and 
ventilation. Heavy poles were placed on top of the roof 
where the shakes lapped; these weights were kept at the 
proper distance apart by roof-knees- — notched logs fitted 
and fastened at right angles between the binding or weight 
poles and along the gable edges of the roof. 

Grass thatching was not used by us. The long, rank 
hay would have served the purpose admirably, but the 
rudely constructed chimneys made thatched buildings an 
extra hazardous fire risk. We did not carpet the floor with 
hay for the same reason. The pole skeletons for stock sta- 
bles, however, not only were covered with grass but the 
splendid wild blue-stem was stacked all around the shelters 
except at the door-openings. Cattle could help themselves 
to the hay-ration, and they usually ate their way through the 
stacking at various points during the winter. 

Doors. 

The openings for cabin doors and windows were sawed 
out after the logs were laid. The free ends were wedged 
up plumb with the corners and the logs forming the top 
casings for these openings then were put in place. Two 
windows, two feet square was a luxury; one window was 
the general rule, and it was covered with slabs during the 
winter. I have seen many a cabin without a single window 
and but one door. A good many cabins, however, had two 
doors directly opposite each other. Occasionally an ox 



32 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

was hitched to a back-log, the cut dragged into the cabin 
at one door, the chain loosed and the critter driven out 
through the other opening. Children shinned through the 
windows as often as they ran in or out of the door. 

The two side-casings for a door were scaled to the 
desired size and thickness from slabs, and were fastened 
to the log-ends. There were no extra top or bottom frame- 
pieces. The material for doors was split from clear, 
straight-grained logs and smoothed with a foot-adz. A 
notch about five inches square was cut from the bottom 
corner of the door-board for the entrance and exit of cats. 
Some of the large log-sections furnished one-panel doors. 
A solid black walnut one-panel door is in our possession 
at this time. 

A man usually had to stoop in order to pass through a 
door opening, but the lack of height made it easy to reach 
the rifle which rested in the forks of a couple of cut sap- 
lings pinned to the log-casing. 

Doors were hung on hickory hinges which were bolted 
with wooden pegs. A less durable hinge, one certain to sag 
or wear in two, was made from buckskin or leather from 
an old boot leg. Doors opened inward and fastened on the 
inside. No latch, lock, knob or handle was visible from 
the outside. The cross-piece of the hickory latch was lifted 
from its notch by pulling the rawhide string attached to it 
which hung on the outer surface through a hole a few 
inches above the latch. This string could be drawn inside 
in case of danger, and the door further secured with a 
cross-bar set into casing-notches. 

Puncheon Floor. 

The cabin with a puncheon floor was thought to be quite 
well finished; for all early structures were unprovided with 
slab floors. The dirt for floor-surfacing was well tramped 
— dampened if necessary — and beaten with a maul until 
smooth and solid. If clay was available, so much the better 



CABIN BUILDING AND BEDS 33 

for the comfort of the housewife, as clay packed evenly 
and became almost impervious to water. 

Puncheon floors were prepared by splitting the outside 
slabs from the surface of logs, hewing the flat side as 
smooth as possible with the broad-ax and an adz. The 
puncheon was put into place on the ground with the round- 
ing side downward. They soon settled into the soft soil 
and made a solid walking surface; if however, a piece of 
floor-log settled unevenly and persisted in rocking when 
stepped upon, it was removed and rebedded. 

The attic floor-boards were not fastened to the ceiling 
rafters, and they soon became warped and uneven. Many 
loft floors were extensive enough only to place the bed ticks 
and furnish a walk-way from the ladder to the beds. The 
open condition of the ceiling made it easy to place things 
for drying and seasoning; besides, the arrangement pre- 
vented the garret sleepers from freezing to death in winter 
or roasting to death in summer. The ladder leading to the 
loft was made from a section of puncheon with cleats fas- 
tened to the flat surface about eighteen inches apart. One 
end of the slab rested on the lower floor and the other 
extended, almost perpendicularly, into the opening in the 
attic floor. 

Our first cabin at Newcastle only had sufficient floored 
space upon which to set the beds, loom, spinning wheels 
and other bulky belongings. There was an eighteen inch 
jump-off^ from this puncheon floor to the earthen surface 
where the daily work was done. This ledge was utilized 
to sit upon, and therefore, fewer stools were necessary. 
We thought we were quite comfortably domiciled when 
we built on the Eyer place, the hewed, double log cabin 
with a lean-to. This cabin furnished ample room for our 
family and others; and for many years it was the commu- 
nity center of entertainment. Outhouse accommodations 
were the thick brush or a couple of fallen tree-trunks; one 
for men, one for women. 



34 



REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




CABIN BUILDING AND BEDS 35 

Fireplace. 

The fireplace was a five-foot opening at one end of the 
cabin. The greater the fire capacity the more wood could 
be burned; and, therefore, the ground sooner would be 
cleared for planting. The first chimneys were built with 
sticks daubed with mud; but on account of fire danger we 
soon began to use stones. The front surface of the fireplace 
was set a foot or so into the room, and the depth — the re- 
ceptacle for fire — was extended backward two feet and 
outside of the cabin wall. The mantel shelf took shape at 
about five feet high, and the chimney wall then was nar- 
rowed and shaped to the regular size. The randle, or 
back-bar, was arranged below and back of the shelf and on 
it were the trammels — hooks for hanging kettles. On this 
bar strips of venison were seared at every killing. 

Flint-sparking was the early method of ignition. The 
kindling was arranged with a bunch of tinder — usually tow 
— beneath and in front of it, and a bit of powder sprinkled 
\hereon. The flint was struck sharply with a hard sub- 
stance, say the steel on the handle of a bowie-knife, and 
the sparks resulting from the concussion lighted the pow- 
der. Our care, however, was to obviate the necessity for 
starting a fresh fire every day, so we carefully covered the 
coals with ashes to prevent their entire extinction. Then 
rekindling easily could be done from the embers. Occa- 
sionally it was necessary to fire a dampened gun-wad into 
inflammable material to start a fire. 

One-Legged Bedstead. 

The pioneer wall-bedstead had but one leg; and it was 
put in place by the regular cabin builders. Very often 
two beds had but one leg — if the width of the cabin was 
twelve feet. I have seen two beds and several wall-bunks 
resting on one strong sapling leg-support. One end of the 
pole foot-rail and, likewise, an end of the side-rail was fas- 
tened to the single bed-leg, and the other ends were fitted 
into an auger-hole in the log wall. If bunks were to be 



36 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

arranged, a high, stout leg-timber was utilized. Holes were 
bored one above another, two or three feet apart. The 
foot and side-rails for each bunk then were arranged as 
already described. 

Ends of shake-slats were stuck into the log-crevices and 
the other ends rested on the side-rail. It often happened, 
when the burden was too heavy, the slats settled and slipped 
from the wall cracks and precipitated the occupants of the 
bed to the floor. If cord were used instead of slats, sap- 
lings were fastened to the wall and the rope cris-crossed 
from them according to the usual method. Sometimes a 
linen blanket or quilt was fastened to the logs and to the 
side-rail and bed end. This did away with the slipping 
slats, but the sag to the center was much greater than with 
the cord-woven support. 

A quilt tied at the four corners with ropes depending 
from the rafters made a comfortable nest for a child. The 
trundle-bed was made small enough to slide under the bed- 
stead during the day. The log cradle usually occupied the 
hearth. 

A four-legged bedstead also was made. While it 
could be shifted about, it could not be taken apart. When 
a family moved these bedsteads remained for the next 
comer. With the advent of the four-poster and its yards 
of cordage, convenience seemed to have attained its limit 
and luxury its climax. There still is in the possession of 
our family a four-post, cord bedstead that is over one hun- 
dred years old. 

When dances were on the program the portable bed- 
stead, loom, table, spinning-wheels, provision barrels, etc., 
were moved outside; and wooden chunks and slabs were 
arranged along the log walls for seats. 

Jack Brewer assisted in all the work of cabin building 
until his death in February, 1857. The broad-ax so well 
used by him in the early work in Newcastle still is in the 
possession of his son, Andrew Brewer. The implement 



CABIN BUILDING AND BEDS 



37 




38 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

was kept carefully by the maternal grandfather, Patrick 
Frakes, and given to Andrew on his twenty-first birthday. 
Our own family broad-ax is a rusty relic of the past, but is 
preserved by my son, Frank Bonebright. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Illumination, Cabin Conditions. 

Our first provision for lighting was a receptacle — 
usually a saucer — filled with grease. A twisted rag wick 
rested against the ironstone edge, and when charred with 
the flame it was snuffed with shears or the fingers. Some- 
times two or three wicks were placed in one dish to increase 
the lighting surface. We called them the Betty light, al- 
though a long way from the original. 

The button light was prepared by wrapping an end of 
the wicking around a button, securing it with thread, and 
loosely winding the short length of wick so it would stand 
erect. The button end was placed in the dish, and the wick 
stood above the grease surface for lighting. 

Other luminaries were prepared with turnips and beets 
as tallow receptacles. One-third of the white or red globe 
was cut away and the center flesh scraped out. Three 
sticks were stuck into the bottom surface for legs. A wick 
was tied loosely to a supporting upright stick which was 
thrust into the bottom flesh at the center of the beet or tur- 
nip cavity. The receptacle was kept well filled with lard 
or tallow — sometimes with goose grease or venison fat. 
Two generations ago mother did much of the family sewing 
beside the feeble ray of this type of light. 

Tallow Dip. 

A homemade method of candle making was to prepare 
a wick and dip it into cooling tallow, lift out and allow 
the grease to congeal on the string. Repeat the process 
until the desired size of candle was secured. They were 
made more symmetrical by lightly rolling under the palm 
on a smooth surface, while the grease was hardening. This 



40 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

product was called the tallow-dip. Tallow-dips were more 
easily broken than the molded candles, but they were an 
improvement on the open grease-dish methods. 

Candle Molds. 

Our first device for molding held but two candles. We 
brought with us from Indiana a goodly supply of tallow. 
When the material was exhausted and we could not replen- 
ish our stock from Des Moines, we had recourse to mutton- 
tallow or venison-fat mixed with beeswax; the latter fur- 
nished the texture for solidity. The illumination from this 
mixture was not so brilliant, but the candles possessed the 
merit of lasting longer than our full-strength tallow cylin- 
dricals. 

We procured a set of molds, within a year or two, with 
a capacity of twelve candles. The possession of these 
molds satisfied us and we wished for no greater conveni- 
ence and hoped for no improvement in the method of can- 
dle making. The utensils were in almost constant use either 
in our own family or among the neighbors. 

Candle-molds were metal tubes about a foot in length, 
fastened together in groups of from two to twelve tubes. 
These receptacles when standing ready to fill were a trifle 
larger at the top than at the bottom. An inch from the 
tapering end there was a conical shaping of the tube which 
terminated in a small opening at the bottom of the cylinder. 
The tapering cone-shaped low^er end was the top of the 
candle when finished. 

The candle-wicking was twisted and doubled and the 
cut ends threaded through the hole in the bottom of each 
tube. Where the wick doubled a wire was thrust through 
the loop and rested on the upper surface of the molds. The 
wicks then were pulled taut through each tube and a knot 
tied close to the metal; this knot closed the small hole at 
the cone-shaped end, and prevented loss of the melted tal- 
low when the receptacles were filled. After filling the 
molds with grease they were set aside to cool and harden. 



CABIN CONDITIONS 



41 




42 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The finished product usually could be removed from 
the frames without difficulty, by first clipping the wicking- 
knot at the conical end, and gently lifting on the wire at 
the top of the cylinders; if the contents adhered, the molds 
were passed through the flame at the fireplace which at 
once released them. 

Not many candles were molded at one time; for if 
stored for future use the mice made havoc with the supply. 
They also ate the raw candle-material, but in that case our 
work and time were not wasted. 

Cabin Cleanliness. 

There is a wide difference between the present means 
of contributing to conventional comfort and the methods 
of pioneer existence under the stress of necessity; never- 
theless, large numbers of early settlers lived to an advanced 
age and health rules, daily, were "honored in the breach 
instead of the observance." 

Cabin conditions, during the early years, would have 
caused despair in the mind of a sanitary commissioner. A 
bath tub was unheard of, and the natural natatorium — the 
river- — served only during the summer season. 

Cooking, eating, sleeping, washing, dressing, nursing 
the sick, laying out the dead — these things all were accom- 
plished in the one-room cabin. 

Field workers seemed to seek the accumulation of mud 
or clay to shake from their boots in the house. The wet 
and reeking socks or jeans "britches" were given prefer- 
ence to the coffee-pot and meat-skillet on the hearth, while 
the unfortunate owner of the apparel was sentenced to bed 
during the drying process. 

Unfavorable weather made game-dressing and fur- 
preparation a necessary but sanguinary and odorous occu- 
pation at the fireside. 

Flies. 

Two generations ago door-screens were unknown in 
this neck-o' the woods. The common house fly and the big 



CABIN CONDITIONS 43 

'"blue-bottle" doubtless often left the cabin in disgust and 
sought the tanning-tub, stable-yard or the accumulation of 
fish-refuse as a respite from in-door activities. The swarms, 
however, at meal time settled upon the victuals with such 
voracity that one of the family was kept busy with a 
"shooer," not to protect food from the pests, but to pre- 
vent the diners from devouring flies. These now declared 
germ-distributors at night roosted contentedly on the over- 
head festoons of drying pumpkin; and they began their 
buzzing morning song before the nocturnal activities of the 
mosquito and other vermin had ceased. 

Sleeping Ventilation. 

The system of ventilation, in winter, was through the 
fireplace; but with a sleeping contingent of from ten to 
twenty, the odor of bodily emanations and the varied but 
unclassified assortment of other smells must have taxed 
even its wide capacity. 

The now jocular expression: "two in a bed and three 
in the middle," was no joke then. The assignments were 
made according to size. Two grown-ups and one child at 
the head, and two half-grown children at the foot of the 
bed ; while three or four in the trundle bed was the rule in- 
stead of the exception. Many a night travelers have slept 
soundly rolled in a quilt on the floor of the cabin, and In- 
dian transients slept before the fire wrapped in their blan- 
kets. 

All extra floor-space, during severe weather, often was 
piled with game carcasses awaiting preparation for mar- 
ket; and not infrequently the newly dropped calves and 
lambs occupied a place on the warm hearth and expressed 
their gratitude by plaintively bleating or calling "maa." 
It should be recorded, however, that the dogs slept out of 
doors in the warm corner by the stone chimney; although 
they had the habit of sneaking into the house at every op- 
portunity and disposing themselves under the bed or table. 



44 REMINISCENSES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Under-the-bed space, ordinarily, was taken up with house- 
hold plunder or the trundle-bed, which the linen bed-cur- 
tains discreetly screened from view. 

The present rules for preventing the contamination of 
milk supplies were inoperative in the "airly" days. The 
crocks of lacteal fluid sat jauntily on the salt-fish or sauer- 
kraut barrels and these receptacles were covered with table- 
cloths, mercifully, to prevent the drowning of rodents. 
While this method may have saved the mice it shortened 
our supply of milk, as morning often disclosed the adhesive 
qualities of butter-fat by the perfect attachment of cream 
to the table-cloth. 

Mice. 

There were so many mice and they courted the com- 
pany of the family so persistently, they made a playground 
of the benches, beds and tables at night. They scurried 
about the floor and cupboards in the daytime; and al- 
though slaughtered by the score, like a company of war- 
zealous soldiers, there was no noticeable diminution of 
numbers, for recruits filled the ranks before the victims 
could be thrown into the fire. 

The wool-sack and the meal-sack were rivals for the at- 
tentions of the rodents. The twin instincts of nature, self- 
preservation and reproduction, strove for precedence. 
When these sacks of supplies were placed on chairs or 
barrels, or suspended from the rafters, it was not with the 
idea that we hoped for immunity from the mice, but it 
was a simple question of the smaller number of marauders 
which were agile and persistent enough to secure the prize. 

The mice of our early acquaintance were the common 
white-bellied field breed, and they were larger specimens 
than the house-mouse of today; if one were to express an 
unprejudiced opinion it would be that they were beautiful 
and cunning little creatures. Rats, fortunately for us and 
the household supplies, did not appear until some advance 
of settlement. 



CABIN CONDITIONS 45 

The stories of women mounting chairs and tables to 
escape from mice must have originated since pioneer times. 
Had we resorted to such methods we would have occupied 
a permanent place on top of the furniture; no work would 
have been done and even in such an elevated position we 
could not have escaped the presence or attentions of the 
active little pests. 

Mosquitoes. 

Mosquitoes, like mice, were busy both day and night. 
The humming of swarms of mosquitoes sounded like the 
approach of a coming storm; and indeed, there was a storm 
of protest in preparation for defense. All day long the 
smudge-pot industriously was supplied with material. It 
was moved about the house as the wind changed or our 
working positions shifted. Everything about the cabin ac- 
quired a smoky look and smell. This condition, notwith- 
standing, did not destroy the mosquitoes, but it did dis- 
courage their activities somewhat. Without smoke protec- 
tion clouds of mosquitoes fairly darkened the atmosphere; 
and in going about the premises bunches of leafy hazel- 
brush were threshed about the face or bare legs to lessen 
the painful inflictions of the blood-thirsty insects. 

There were mosquitoes of immense size which we 
called "gal-nappers." When a girl was persistently sought 
by the gal-nappers she was said to be old enough to accept 
the attentions of the opposite sex; if already engaged she 
was listed for matrimony very soon. 

Bed Bugs. 

The historian usually is discreetly silent regarding 
the courteously named "crimson-rambler;" but the bed bug 
is so cosmopolitan in his wanderings, so insistent in activi- 
ties and insatiable in appetite, that he compelled a painful 
and luridly wordy recognition from the pioneers. 

One would have been considered mildly insane had he 



46 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE. IOWA 

declared that rodents, winged insects or vermin could be 
exterminated or excluded from the house; indeed, until 
the domiciles were improved it would have been impos- 
sible. Our efforts were directed merely toward "reason- 
able restraint," and these pests gained an unreasonable 
monopoly in many households on account of the relaxed 
vigilance of the women-folk. 

Wash Basins. 

Our wash dishes were the usual tin milk-pan shapes. 
Several soldered sections formed the upright side-circle. 
The bottom also was soldered to the rim. After a short 
time in use they leaked at every joint and age opened the 
rusty seams at various intermediate points. 

Tufts of yarn were pulled into the holes to stop the 
leaks until there was not enough solid material to support 
the s8ctions or bottom. Large gourds, however, made good 
substitutes for the tin wash-basins. 

A post was set in the ground beside the rain barrel — 
later beside the well — and a short, flat-surfaced slab nailed 
to the top for the wash-pan and soap-gourd. Workers, on 
the way home, often washed their faces and hands at the 
spring or creek. 

A hurrying bunch of boys sometimes took turns pouring 
water on the hands and heads of one another. This method 
saved some wear on the pan, but it maintained a mud-pud- 
dle in the dooryard. Visiting young women usually offered 
their services for the water-pouring work, and of course, 
several boys would try to catch the same stream at once. 
The pushing and pulling usually culminated in promiscu- 
ous water throwing which ended only when the supply of 
water was exhausted. 

When there was a working-bee, the tub was filled with 
water and the whole force performed their ablutions at 
the same fount, and two or three at a time used the long 
tow-towel. The wooden-stave tub was a perennial example 



CABIN CONDITIONS 47 

of constancy, for the hoops were always loose and it leaked 
at the stave openings. 

A few families used crocks instead of wash-basins. 
They were more serviceable and sanitary, but the thought 
of a milk-crock or the dough-bowl as a toilet accessory was 
not pleasing and they did not grow in favor. 

When regular wash-pans were offered on the market, 
they were so small that by the time a couple of splashes of 
water were made on the face and the head stuck into the 
receptacle for a more thorough wetting the pan was empty. 
More water was necessary unless the half -washed candidate 
removed the rest of the dirt with the towel. Late in the 
season or until it was too cold to leave water in the barrels, 
the boys, before breakfast, broke the ice and washed in the 
freezing water. Some of them preferred rubbing the hands 
and face briskly with snow. The practice "waked-up" the 
waslier and seemed to satisfy the mentor of cleanliness. 

The Toilet. 

Small children were combed by the older ones, and the 
older ones by mam — first with the "reddin-comb" then with 
the fine-tooth. The hair was worn long and was very thick. 
The combing was not done for pleasure nor to improve the 
appearance; it was a measure of precaution that permitted 
little relaxation from its daily duty. I do not remember 
any men with very thin hair or bald heads, although a few 
old women had thin hair. Hair-combing was not so dilii- 
cult as at first appears. The youths kept the hair oiled and 
the young women "did up" the hair so smoothly and tightly 
it combed without trouble. It was the small children who 
suffered from the straightening of snarls and the necessity 
for keeping quiet during the operation, which was per- 
formed while sitting on the floor with the head between the 
knees of the operator. 

There were other niceties of the toilet, however, which 
were neglected entirely. I do not remember ever to have 
seen an early settler clean the teeth. On the other hand, I 



48 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

do not remember ever to have seen an early settler wilh 
poor teeth. A mouthful of decayed, broken or false teeth 
was unknown. All the care that was given teeth was "pick- 
ing" them which was done with a sliver, a straw, a sharp- 
ened goose-quill or a table-fork; and I believe the "pick- 
ing" was done more for after-meal pastime or habit than 
from necessity. 

When the children's temporary teeth became loose, a 
tow-string was hitched on and Mam yanked them out. The 
child who was reluctant ■ or whimpered was called a 
"fraidy," a "cowardy-calf" or a "cry-baby" by the other 
children. Infants, even, were shown little consideration 
in this field of endeavor. If a "teething baby" was fretful 
or cried with swollen gums, mam or some neighborhood old 
granny busied herself with the rusty iron thimble and 
rubbed the gums until the teeth grated upon it. As usual 
the infliction was worse than the affliction, but we did not 
know about, and therefore did not fear the possibilities of 
blood poison. A resistible tooth pap pulled with the bullet 
molds. 

The teeth of "grown-ups" not only were neglected but 
they were misused. Threads or cords always were "bit 
off" with the teeth. When it v/as necessary to hold an arti- 
cle securely and steadily and which could not be done wilh 
•the hand grip, it was held with the teeth and jaw-grip. A 
"stuck" rifle ball was released by the same force. The 
ramrod-worm was screwed into the bullet, the rod end 
which extended beyond the gun muzzle was taken beln^een 
the teeth and the ball twisted out. 

More, hazelnuts and hickory nuts were cracked with 
the teeth than were crushed with a mallet or between two 
stones in the regular way. Teeth were very generously 
used as a defensive weapon, not alone in the scrimmages of 
children but by mature fighters. The loss of teeth in the 
olden days was due either to accident or was the result of 
a well directed blow from a "fist-i-cuff" opponent. 

The stickler for his own tooth brush would not have 
found favor with us. No one owned a quid of gum — -"to 



CABIN CONDITIONS 49 

the victor belonged the spoils." The older members of the 
family chewed the food for the little fellows; one or two 
spoons went the rounds of the table and men, women and 
children used the same drinking cup. 

The teeth of my parents were strong, even and beauti- 
ful throughout their lives and my mother lived to a ripe 
old age. 



CHAPTER V. 
Preparation for Farming. 

The log-rollings of sixty-five years ago were terrific. 
The standing timber in the Boone bottom was so dense that 
a tree cut in the midst could not fall to the ground for 
lodging in another; so, chopping was begun near an 
opening. 

These open spaces were marshy bottom plots, and the 
air was black with swarms of mosquitos. It was necessary 
to keep immense smudges in active operation about the 
logging area, and the workers decorated their hats with 
burning punk-sticks as miners wear their lamps. 

The helpers came from miles around to assist in log- 
rollings. Trees were felled and trimmed; the logs dragged 
together by ox-teams, and the rolling and piling was fin- 
ished by the men with handspikes. The log-pile then was 
burned to clear the land for crops. 

A part of the underbrush and trimmings was burned 
about the stumps to deaden them and later they were 
grubbed out. This lavish waste of wood has always been a 
source of great regret to me. The sacrifice was wholly 
unnecessary, for fields of fertile prairie were lying near 
at hand. We imagined, however, that prairie land would 
be less productive than the clearings; and in addition to 
destroying fuel we wasted man-power. 

The current understanding of a wood-chopping bee is 
that wood may be prepared for house use; but the real 
old-fashioned chopping-bee was the felling of trees, trim- 
ming off limbs and severing the cuts to be piled at the log- 
rollings and burned. 

Rail-Mauling. 

The word rail-splitting does not convey to the mind an 
adequate idea of the downright hard work necessary to 



PREPARATION FOR FARMING 51 

prepare posts and rails. A more appropriately fitting word 
is rail-mauling, which represents an extreme degree of 
exertion when applied to splitting an oak, hard maple or 
hickory log. 

Whatever the record of the champion rail-maker I 
think we would have been safe in matching Rube Bennett 
against him. Rube worked seven days in a week and took 
little part in any neighborhood recreation; but in a rail- 
mauling rivalry he was always on hand and an easy cham- 
pion. Sunday usually was his most strenuous day. He 
would leave a hilarious crowd, shoulder his ax and maul 
and remark: "I've some hard butt-cuts to open up, and 
have to be 'fore-handed'." 

The usual winter work day — daylight until dark — with 
reasonably easy-splitting wood, Rube mauled out one hun- 
dred rails for which he received the munificent sum of 
fifty cents per hundred. 

Rube Bennett, Jake and Bill Funk and Mike McGon- 
igal, all bachelors, made their home with our family for 
from one to three years. They made a specialty of rail 
mauling. Much of the material for rail-fences on farms 
near town was furnished by them. 

Frakes Family Work. 

The family of Patrick Frakes seemed to enjoy their 
every-day work in the woods regardless of the hard labor 
of rail-splitting. After meals, pap, with three or four of 
his boys would lead the procession to the timber. Several 
trees would be selected. Two choppers, one on either side, 
were assigned to each tree and there ensued a merry rivalry 
in falling them. When the trees were down the boys hopped 
upon the trunk as lively as crickets, and trimmed until the 
body was shorn of its limbs and the rail-cuts then were 
severed. 

Pap removed his boots that he might stand more firmly 
upon the log. In his sock-feet, with ax in hands, he began 
operations on the bull-cut. When a small opening had 



52 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

been made in the end of the log a steel wedge was inserted 
and two boys struck it alternate licks with their mauls. As 
the split widened, two more choppers repeated the opera- 
tion further along the section. Pap returned to the opening 
cleft, set in the glut — a short, thick wooden wedge — and 
the log soon was parted in half. 

It was the habit of the Frakes family to work in the 
woods bareheaded and nearly always barehanded. Their 
fingers often became numb with cold and they were rubbed 
briskly with snow until the circulation was restored. The 
same drastic measures served for chilled feet. 

The boys never tired of telling jokes on one another — 
or what happened or might have happened; and, withal, 
they were an agreeable, happy and hospitable family. 

In my mind's eye I behold Patrick Frakes in mature 
manhood. His shock of silvered hair was thrown well back 
from his weather-worn brow and his figure was erect, virile, 
unshrinking. Standing upon a fallen tree-trunk, with ax 
at rest, he seemed an incarnation of the Roman gladiator 
at the close of a victorious conflict. His unwavering look 
searched the soul of his comrades and his enquiring mind 
probed a subject for the cause of things. He accepted no 
ready-made opinions; conformed to no rules that his reason 
rejected; and he expressed his unfaltering faith in the 
beneficence and justice of Natural Law. 

Fences. 

When an old-time enclosure for stock was needed, a 
tree was felled in the desired direction. The next one was 
cut in the same line, far enough away for the branches of 
the second tree to overlap the first; and so on, making a 
circle, square or any shape preferred or most convenient. 
A creeping critter might escape through this obstruction 
of trunks and boughs but a breachy one could not. 

The construction of a worm, or snake fence was begun 
by placing the first string of rails on the ground, zigzag; 
each turn representing a right angle. The tiers of rail ends 



PREPARATION FOR FARMING 53 

tlien were laid one above another at alternate angles, to the 
height of six, eight or ten rails. The worm fence had no 
corner stays. The usual practice was to lay the worm-rail 
at the season of the new moon. It was said that rails placed 
on the ground during the moon's dark phase would settle 
into the soil and rot rapidly. On the other hand if they 
were placed during the light of the moon they would not 
settle but would be preserved indefinitely. The necessity 
of timing fence making to tally with moon phases was 
obviated somewhat when the stake-and-rider fence became 
common. 

All garden planting during the early years was done 
by the signs of the zodiac, and if the moon's phases tallied 
therewith so much the better for the success of the garden. 
Home butchering, likewise, was done while the moon was 
new. It was thought the meat did not shrink in bulk while 
cooking, as did that prepared when the moon was old. 
This rule could not be followed in hunting. 

Stake and Rider. 

The direction outline of the stake-and-rider fence was 
the same as the rail-worm, but the first rail usually rested 
on a stump, post or chunk, from eight to sixteen inches 
high. The intermediate rails then were laid; but before 
the top one was put in place, two stakes — rails — at each 
corner were braced in a slanting position from opposite 
sides of an angle and crossing in X-shape above the rails. 
The top — or rider-rail — rested in the X formed by the 
stakes and securely locked the structure against being 
pushed or hooked down. 

The ten-rail, double-stake-and-rider fence often was 
deemed necessary to confine the long-horned, breachy crit- 
ters. Rails were built up as high again from the point 
where the first set of stakes crossed. Then a second set of 
longer braces were placed as the first ones had been and 
finished with a rider or locker-rail. 

Later, the upright mortised fence posts which received 



54 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

and held the thin, flat ends of rails was a large saving of 
material, labor and ground space. We did not construct 
the stump fences which were common in the more densely 
wooded localities; and our black soil was not sprinkled 
with material for stone fences. Gates were unknown. The 
corner of a double rail-panel was thrown down and spread 
apart for passage into the field and a set of rail bars were 
used about the premises. Fence openings were not used 
except for teams or cattle. Anyone afoot crept through or 
climbed over. 

A paling fence about the cabin yard was an indication 
of the pioneers' prosperity. Rived from logs, the palings 
were from four to six inches wide and eight or more feet 
high. They were placed in an upright position and fas- 
tened to a top and bottom rail-frame. Paling fences were 
not built to protect against invasion, but to confine the hunt- 
ing bounds. 

Cradling, Flailing Grain. 

Our first crop was corn and potatoes. When we began 
to raise small grain the work of harvesting with a cradle 
was no light undertaking. The cradle followed the shape 
of an ordinary scythe. There was a rack of several fingers 
four inches apart with the same curve and length as the 
blade. The cradle-fingers were fastened to the snath at 
right angles, and they held the cut grain until it was depos- 
ited in a bunch by the cradler. This was a great improve- 
ment on the uneven swath left by the scythe. 

An unskilled workman could cradle two acres of grain 
in a day. The seasoned operator, from sunup to sundown, 
could cut three acres. 

The small quantity of grain was flailed on a clean 
piece of hard ground. A hand-pole with a short, heavy 
stick of wood fastened to the free end with a leathern hinge, 
was the flail which we used in pounding and loosening the 
grain from the hulls. The chaff^ was blown from the wheat 
on a windy day by pouring it from one receptacle to 
another. 



PREPARATION FOR FARMING 55 

Ox Tramping. 

Larger quantities of grain were tramped out by the 
oxen. The bundles were placed in a circle. One end of a 
rope was hitched to the head of the "nigh" ox, a loose loop 
in the other end was thrown over a stake in the center of 
the cleared space. One of the children was placed on the 
"off" ox and the team was kept moving; tramp, tramp, 
tramp; round, and round, and round again. This wind- 
ing-up process was continued until the rider was about to 
fall from his perch with dizziness when the course was 
reversed. The oxen then were headed in the other direc- 
tion and the unwinding was done. The heavy straw was 
removed after the sheaves had been forked over and over 
by a pitcher, and well trodden by the oxen. The residue 
was scraped and swept together and the wind-fanning proc- 
ess removed the chaff. 

There was no fanning-mill in use for several years. I 
believe the first one was made by Dave Sketchley. The 
fans were fashioned from basswood bark. The machine 
made the country circuit among the neighbors. 

Well Digging. 

No wells were dug for several years. Springs, creeks 
and sloughs furnished the water supply. Men seemed to 
have no disposition — or perhaps no thought — to lighten the 
wives' work; for water carrying always fell to the lot of 
women and children. Spring-water invariably had to be 
packed up hill and the slough supply was at least a quarter 
of a mile distant. 

Very little effort would have been required to provide 
wells. The ground was so full of water that only a reser- 
voir was nesded. Our first welj was but six or eight feet 
deep, and much greater in circumference than depth. The 
water always was level with the ground surface, or very 
near the top. A slab was thrown across it on which we 
executed innumerable feats of agileness in dipping the 
water and facing about on the puncheon to return with our 



56 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

load. That the hogs, or dogs, or young'ns were not 
drowned ought to prove that fate takes care of its own. 

The well from which my family still uses water, and 
which is declared to be the best in town by hundreds who 
have drunk it, was dug by my husband with my assistance. 
The surface-dirt was thrown out to a depth above his head. 
The earth and shale then were filled into alternating buck- 
ets. While I hauled one of them up, hand over hand, and 
emptied it the other was being filled. 

The well is about sixteen feet deep, and six feet of it 
was drilled and picked from the solid rock. The walling 
was done with stones which were let down in a bucket. 
They were laid without mortar and without a scaffold or 
windlass to support the worker. The work was accom- 
plished by straddling — a foot on either side — and chang- 
ing his position around and upward as the wall progressed. 
A rope snubbed around a tree, with a foot-loop at the free 
end was paid out by me as Tom descended to work. When 
ready to come out of the well, the rope was securely fas- 
tened to the tree and he came up hand over hand with feet 
against the well-wall. 

A wooden curb and windlass were provided after some 
delay. One of our periodical annoyances was the breaking 
of the rope, which contingency precipitated the pail into the 
well; as we possessed but one bucket it had to be fished out 
with hook or rake before any more water could be drawn. 

A generation passed before well-sweeps and the double 
action pulleys with the "old oaken bucket" came into use. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Hunting and Trapping — Weapons. 

My father kept no record of his big game shooting. 
No food-fowls nor game-animals were killed for sport or 
practice. Hmiting was done only to replenish the larder 
or to refill the money-pouch. A particularly successful 
day or occasion, however, was impressed upon the memory 
by frequent repetition. 

Major Brassfield came to Iowa a year earlier than our 
family. As the supply of big game became less opulent 
he moved further along the frontier, which gave him more 
extended advantages for large killings. He estimated that 
in his Iowa hunting-work he had killed one hundred and 
fifty elk. The words deer and elk often were used inter- 
changably by early settlers. 

Brassfield's record stands — for different days — as 
declared by himself: seven deer in one day; six elk in one 
day; three buffalo in one day; three bears in one day and 
no account of wolves and smaller varmints was made. 

The major made no statement that he ever had shot 
an Indian; but he invariably gave the redskins credit for 
simple honesty and fair dealing in all of their transactions 
with him. He and his stepson, 'Fayette Barnes, were the 
only two men on the Boone river who did not decamp for 
the settlements at the time of the Spirit Lake trouble. They 
sent the family to safety but themselves remained to guard 
the stock and premises. Brassfield declared that night 
after night for many weeks he and his son slept upon the 
cabin floor, one at either door, with loaded rifle ready for 
instant use. Fortunately no Indians appeared. 

Marksmanship. 

Wilson Brewer's ability as a marksman was said to be 
equal to that of his friend Brassfield. Doubtless his record 



58 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

in deer and elk killings was quite as high, for scores and 
scores of the animals were killed during the early years of 
our residence here. Father never returned empty-handed 
from a hunting trip, and he invariably won a trophy at a 
shooting-match. 

The art of marksmanship, in our family, seems to have 
been transmitted. My father and brothers were expert 
marksmen, and my own sons are all excellent shots; the 
youngest, F. A. Bonebright, for fifteen years belonged to 
the Iowa National Guard, and was a member of a corps of 
sharpshooters during the Spanish-American war. He has 
won many prizes and army medals in marksmanship con- 
tests at local, state and national meets. 

Flint-Lock Rifle. 

The large bore, muzzle-loading, flint-lock gun was a 
unique weapon. The powder-flask — a bottle — or the pow- 
der-horn, made from the horn of an ox, and the bullet-bag 
were worn slung by a buckskin band over the shoulder and 
across the breast of the hunter. 

The powder for loading was measured from the pow- 
der-horn and poured into the gun barrel. An inch-square 
piece of factory — muslin — was placed over the muzzle, the 
bullet or buckshot pressed down flush with the edge, and 
the surplus cloth trimmed off with a bowie, or jack-knife. 
The wadding and leaden missile were pushed tightly into 
place with the ramrod. The powder-pan on the gun-lock 
was filled with powder and the implement of destruction 
was in readiness. 

The contact of the hammer-flint with the upright lock- 
steel produced a spark which ignited the touch-powder and 
discharged the gun. This was a precarious method of fir- 
ing, as the marksman's eyes may have been endangered by 
the explosion. The powder in the little pan frequently was 
blown away in windy weather, and the hunter's delay in 
repriming made possible the loss of game. 

The supply of game was greatly reduced before the 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 



59 




60 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

use of percussion-caps became general. The small-bore, 
rifled-barrel guns made possible a greater degree of accu- 
rate shooting. 

The different families did not invade the hunting 
grounds of a neighbor. It might not have been entirely 
comfortable to do so. It was, however, a question of per- 
mitting a hunter to supply his own table with meat or the 
poacher having to furnish it for him. General hunts and 
round-ups occasionally were indulged. 

Wolf Grounds. 

The hillside to the south of Brewer's creek was a favor- 
ite haunt for wolves. A string of traps was maintained 
there for several years. Before leaving the East we had 
provided ourselves with bear-traps which are large double- 
spring steel affairs. The jaws are fashioned with pointed 
teeth which fit together as the cogs on sister wheels. These 
traps we used for wolves. The combined strength of two 
men was required to set them, and if a wolf once were 
entrapped there was small chance of his escape. Occa- 
sionally if caught by the leg, and the bones were broken, the 
animal would liberate himself by cutting away the skin 
and tendons with his teeth. The effort to escape, however, 
prolonged but did not save his life, for the bleeding, muti- 
lated leg served well in trailing him to a hiding place or to 
his lair. 

A trapper's method of wonting wolves was to tie a rope 
about the neck of a newly killed varmint and with the free 
end over his shoulder drag the wonting-meat for a greater 
or lesser distance through the woods. The bait was hung 
in a tree and traps set and concealed for capture of the 
beast. 

A pioneer hardly could exaggerate the number of 
wolves which infested this part of the country; and each 
individual early settler assisted in the extermination of 
the canis family in numbers which ran into the hundreds. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 61 



Wolf Killing. 



One of the pleasant although occasionally exciting 
occupations of pioneer times was the early spring work in 
our sugar-bush, located on the farm now owned by my 
son, F. A. Bonebright, which farm then was thickly wooded. 

Holes were bored a few inches into the trunks of hard 
maple trees. Spiles or split sections of Elder or Sumac 
stalks from which the pith had been removed were inserted 
in the holes and the sap caught in sugar-trough gourds or 
other receptacles. During sap-season the sweet water was 
used for coffee making. 

When the tree-leaves had expanded to the size of squir- 
rels' ears, the last runs were made and the sugar water was 
boiled down for the season's supply of maple-sugar and 
syrup. Many a day I was sent alone to the sugar-brush to 
carry in the water and boil the syrup. I worked from day- 
break to midday and from noon until twilight, happy and 
unafraid ; although I easily might have been captured by 
Indians or devoured by wolves or wildcats. 

Concerted action was necessary during the busy sugar- 
season to care for the output. "Sugarin'-off" parties were 
invited any evening during the melting weather of March 
and the boys and "gals" alternately stirred the boiling 
maple juice, or sauntered on the shadowy outskirts of 
camp. All hands were present, however, at the close of the 
evening's work to participate in the sugarin', and there was 
a good-humored rivalry among the several pot-tenders to 
produce the finest flavored and richest colored commodity. 

One evening my brother Jack and Cinda Schultz were 
late in arriving at camp. They had just crossed the foot- 
log near the creek's mouth at the Chase mill site, when they 
were startled by the yelp of a wolf only a few yards away. 

The couple retreated to the middle of the log-bridge. 
Lucinda was told to sit down and keep silent. Jack exam- 
ined his musket, and the two waited and watched intently 
for the appearance of the animal. The wolf came nearer, 
each howl indicating the direction of approach. For a 



62 



REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




HUNTING AND TRAPPING 63 

moment the moonbeams lighted the trail to the south of 
them and disclosed the dark form of the hmigry varmint. 
Jack's musket spoke; and the yelp of anticipation was 
changed to the dying whine of the wolf. 

Immediately an answering shot was fired from the 
sugar-bush and loitering was forgotten. 

The wolves for several weeks had been unusually active 
and rapacious. They had killed several shoats and a fine 
fat yearling calf. On this particular evening the pack had 
prowled persistently about the sugar-camp. Because of 
their proximity a number of couples had given up the eve- 
ning stroll; but knowing they were safe within the camp- 
fire radius they treated with raillery the more or less peri- 
lous situation. 

When the shot sounded from the creek Phil Jenkins, 
who happened to be near the stack of arms, fired a reply 
and reloaded while the other boys secured their weapons. 
Starting ahead of the rescue party Phil's first leap into the 
underbrush revealed the crouching form of an immense 
wolf with gleaming eyes and glistening teeth. The young 
man fired and raced back into the light to reload. 

The boys shouted to Phil: "Look after the girls!" and 
all ran precipitately into the shadows of the adjoining 
wood, each at a different point. Before a score of steps 
were made the crack of half a dozen guns was heard and 
half a dozen boys retreated into camp to recharge their 
rifles. 

A second shot resounded from the creek, and a con- 
certed shout with the shots of rescuers gave answer. Still 
another shot from the distance and the answering scream 
of women at the camp ought to have scared away a colony 
of coyotes or pack of timber wolves. The excitement was 
intense — Phil Jenkins no longer could endure inaction. 
"Keep up the fires, girls!" he yelled, and "made off" in 
the direction of the creek. 

Scarcely had he cleared the circle of illumination when 
he was attacked so suddenly that, in firing, he missed his 
mark. He clubbed his gun but the stock was broken with 



64 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

the first blow. He turned to flee and the wolf sprang upon 
him; but the girls, with firebrands, rushed to his rescue and 
fought off" the animal. His clothing, however, was badly 
torn and his flesh lacerated by the teeth and claws of the 
ravenous beast. 

Still another shot from the creek indicated that Jack 
and his fellow-prisoner on the foot-log were making a good 
defense; and the longer intervals between the shots of the 
rescuing party gave assurance that the remnant of the pack 
was being dispersed. 

Jack was the hero of the hour and Cinda a close second 
as heroine; although their position was no more perilous 
than that of the girls in camp or of the rescuers, John 
Prime, Hez VanDorn, Stephe Schultz, Joth Lyon, Roll 
Brewer, Jimmy Peabody and Phil Jenkins. 

Thirteen wolves were killed that evening; four of them 
were shot by Jack Brewer within a dozen feet of the foot- 
log on which he and Miss Schultz were marooned. The 
sugaring-off^ was delayed somewhat by this interruption. 
The "batch" was a "leetle" scorched; but we were all glad 
there were no disastrous results from the frightful experi- 
ence. 

Escape From a Deer. 

Hunters did not go far from their cabins, during the 
early years, without their guns and bowie-knives. An estab- 
lished habit of my father was: not to lay down the gun 
without reloading. By observing this rule he missed no 
opportunity for procuring game and probably prolonged 
his life. 

I recall an exciting experience with a deer which father 
had shot. He leaned the rifle against a tree, drew his knife 
and prepared to bleed the fallen animal. At his approach 
the creature sprang to his feet and charged savagely upon 
the hunter. To save himself from being horned to death 
father seized the antlers of the crazed beast and a fierce 
tussel followed. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 65 

His knife, which had been taken between the teeth, was 
dropped during the struggle. For what seemed a very long 
time, but in reality could have been but a few minutes, 
father's efforts were directed toward keeping a firm hold 
on the horns of the brute while escaping contact with the 
trees about him. 

The bullet had reached a vital spot, but the victim's 
vitality was unusual and he finally weakened from loss of 
blood. Father dextrously dodged a tree and at the same 
time thrust the antlers downward and brought the head of 
the buck against the obstruction. The beast dropped to his 
knees but blindly bunted the tree in an effort to destroy the 
supposed antagonist while father recovered his gun and 
knife. It was unnecessary, however, to waste a second bul- 
let and the dying animal was stuck with the bowie-knife. 

Preparation was made for drawing, but the venison was 
discovered to be unfit for food. Discoloration of meat was 
a condition often found in game-animals which had been 
unduly excited, worried or angered by hunters or hounds. 
Such congestion was more marked if closely pursued by 
human hunters than if followed by animal enemies. Many 
limes when the day's deer-stalking had ended successfully 
the hunter could claim no recompense except the hide of 
his victim — the meat being valueless. 

The same day father shot another deer which dropped 
to the ground at the report of the gun, exactly as the other 
one had done. The hunter ran forward, seized the creature 
by the nose, turned the head to expose the throat for the 
purpose of bleeding him. In a flash the animal sprang up, 
shook his head and snorted loudly. Not wishing to repeat 
the episode of the morning father started at a double-quick 
gait toward a fallen tree a few rods away. 

The buck followed with much bawling, snorting and 
trampling of bushes, which noises apparently held unusual 
menace. Father leaped upon the trunk of the tree and took 
refuge in its branches beyond the reach of the deer. His 
precaution, however, was unnecessary. The wounded crea- 



66 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

lure was not pursuing him but was making the final, spas- 
modic attempt to escape. 

Father frequently related the joke of having been treed 
by a dying deer but he usually made the excuse that "Jeru- 
shy" — the name of his gun — seemed to be shooting sev- 
eral points in the wind, that day. 

One could incur the displeasure of an "airly" day 
hunter, or raise the ire of a marksman by stepping over 
the gun while it was being cleaned and oiled. We were as 
careful to avoid crossing pap's gun as we were of meddling 
with mam's spinning materials. The former was thought 
to bring ill-luck to the hunter, but the latter really did 
bring ill-luck to the meddler in the form of a sound scold- 
ing or a "box on the ear with five red-headed nails in it." 



Twenty-seven Deer in Two-Days' Hunt. 

In a two-day's hunt near the old steam mill site in the 
northwest part of town, my father killed twenty-ssven deer. 
A heavy snow had fallen. Then came a thaw, followed by 
a freeze which left on the snow's surface, a crust which 
broke through with every step of the animals and made it 
next to impossible for them to escape. 

Jack, Roll and father started hunting in the morning. 
The first deer-tracks were sighted at about the court house 
corner, and were followed a couple of hundred rods north- 
west where the herd was located. Father, in the lead, shot 
three deer before the boys came up. It was decided that he 
continue hunting while the young men were to bleed, draw 
and hang the carcasses in the trees; and throughout the day 
they were kept busy at the work. 

At nightfall the boys built a camp-fire; spitted venison, 
and prepared to pass the night near the game and prevent 
depredations by wolves. Father returned home. Early 
the following morning, with a yoke of oxen and a sled, he 
set out for camp. 

At the close of the two-days' hunt twenty-seven deer 
had been killed. They represented ages from no antlers, 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 67 

to brockets and crockets. The game was stored in the house 
on account of freezing weather until it could be prepared 
for market. 

I believe this deer record was the highest ever made in 
this vicinity. 

An account of the first deer and elk shooting may be 
found in chapter one. 

Wild Hogs. 

This part of the country was not infested with wild 
hogs, although the Des Moines river hunters reported that 
several bunches of them ranged north through their dis- 
tricts during the summer, and the ones which escaped their 
guns straggled back in the fall. 

The sultan at the head of a drove of wild hogs is a 
ferocious beast. Young, aspiring boars are killed by the 
leader in a finish fight or driven away from the herd; or 
perhaps the old male is killed, whereupon the victor appro- 
priates the place and assumes the responsibilities of leader. 
New colonies are formed by the separation of parent herds 
and a number of the females following a young male mate. 

A boar and half a dozen sows had ranged as far north 
as Terwilliger creek, south of town. They were making 
havoc among the sheep, pigs and chickens of the settlers. 
The dogs trailed the brutes with little enthusiasm and less 
success. The neighbors had used the various methods of 
baiting, trapping and trailing, and had succeeded in kill- 
ing the females but the male had escaped. 

Word was sent to our hunters with the request to bring 
the best dog and come to assist in the hog-killing. Roll, 
with Typ and Cap, two of our prize trailers, started for the 
rendezvous. 

The hog-trail was "picked up" before the meeting place 
was reached. The dogs were kept in leash and the porcine 
home finally located. The he-hog, minus his harem, had 
selected a sheltered spot half way up the steep bank of the 
creek where the erosion of nature had caused a tree to fall 



68 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

with branches toward the stream. The mound of earth and 
tangled roots gave protection from the front and the excava- 
tion made by the removal of roots had been filled by the 
hog with grasses and rushes. A quite artistic and secure 
bark and brush covering had been drawn by him to a small 
opening for an entrance. 

Mr. Hog was not at home when the hunter arrived. 
Roll decided his best move would be to tie the dogs out of 
reach on the fallen tree-trunk, and take his own position 
thereon to await the return of the beast to his lair. 

While debaing the best position the dogs with loosened 
leashes, sprang into the underbrush and before the hunter 
could draw a bead upon his mark the boar plunged into 
his burrow. 

The dogs were tied and Roll took his stand commanding 
the opening to the den. For a long time he waited almost 
motionless and breathless, but the hog did not come forth. 
The shadows were beginning to lengthen. Waiting grew 
tiresome so the dogs were turned loose to harrass his hog- 
ship and drive him into the open where he could be shot. 

The hounds, tearing at his shelter, soon brought the 
boar out and to bay. An instant he paused before charg- 
ing the dogs or the hunter. That instant his death sentence 
was signed with a rifle bullet from Roll's gun. 

The hunter and dogs covered the couple of remaining 
miles to Terwilliger's at a double quick gait where they 
arrived before dark. The party which had come together 
for the day's hunt had grown tired or waiting for Roll and 
several of the men had gone home. 

"You are pretty late, young man," said Terwilliger, as 
the nimrod approached. "We have decided to get together 
in the morning and make an early start." 

"There's no use to get together tomorrow to kill that 
hog," replied Roll. 

"What's the reason?" demanded Terwilliger. "When 
our young stock goes to pasture, we ain't sure any more 
that they will ever come back." 

"Well," remarked Roll, complacently, "that wild hog 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 69 

won't kill any more critters for he is dead himself." 

The details of the day then were related and great sat- 
isfaction was expressed by all present. Roll remained 
over night at the Terwilliger home. In the morning the 
hunters accompanied him to the scene of the hog shooting. 
The tusks of the animal were kept for a long time as a 
reminder of the only wild boar killed in this vicinity. He 
weighed about three hundred pounds, but the weight was 
in the bony frame instead of flesh. His legs were very 
long, and his head and nose formed almost half the length 
of his body. 

It has been stated that Iowa wild hogs may have been 
descendants from the domesticated hogs which had become 
wild in their habits since the early settlement of the state. 
If the theory be true, this particular specimen had reverted 
to type with absolute thoroughness and accuracy of physi- 
cal detail and disposition. 

Elk Hunt; Locked Antlers. 

My father had patiently trailed an elk from early 
morning until late afternoon. Coming warm upon the 
trail he heard the peculiar cry of the species. Hurrying 
forward to an opening among the trees he beheld the elk 
he had been stalking in deadly combat with a bull of 
smaller build. The antlers of the combatants had become 
inextricably locked at the first charge ; which, to the trained 
hunter, meant death to both animals. 

The beasts gave no heed to the human intruder, and for 
a long time he watched an equally balanced battle between 
age and weight on one side, and youth and activity on the 
other. The smaller elk at length secured an advantage in 
leverage, and the horns — together with a part of the skull — 
were torn from the head of the heavier antagonist; and 
with an almost human cry he dropped dying to the ground. 

The exhausted victor sank to his knees for rest. Notic- 
ing father near at hand he uttered a low bellow, shook his 
head in the effort to free himself from the antlers of his 



70 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

dead enemy and made several ineffectual attempts to 
charge, but handicapped by the weight upon his horns his 
over-wrought forces refused to respond and a rifle ball fin- 
ished him. 

These locked antlers were kept for many years as a 
curiosity; and were finally given to a prospector named 
Hopkins, who promised to mount the unique pairs, I have 
heard of a small number of such specimens, although I 
have seen but this one set. 

Wildcats. 

Our boys made a hunting trip to Head grove during 
the early years. They were out several days through a 
severe storm, and came home empty handed. 

They reported good success before the opening of the 
storm. The game they had taken was skinned, drawn and 
hung in the trees. The skins were wrapped and securely 
tied about the carcasses awaiting the joint efforts of the 
party to remove them to camp. 

The blizzard broke with such fury that all movements 
were abandoned. When the storm abated, the hunters on 
account of deep snow, prepared to return home. They 
made the circuit from tree to tree where the venison car- 
casses had been suspended, but the skeletons only remained. 
The meat had been devoured by wildcats. Even the skins 
were torn to shreds and were worthless. 

Wildcats were numerous and not at all afraid of hunt- 
ers. They were not so large as the lynx. They would not 
attack a human being but did not run from one. The var- 
mints, however, were as ravenous as wolves when hungry, 
and would devour game in about the same way. It was 
the usual measure of precaution for hunters to keep a sharp 
lookout for cat "sign," when there was stored game or car- 
casses in the open awaiting removal to camp. 

It would be a conservative estimate to say that hundreds 
of wildcats were killed in the immediate vicinity of our 
city. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 



71 




72 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Elk Hunt. 

One winter day, Jack, Roll and Little Bill Brewer 
tracked an elk from the mouth of the White-Fox creek 
along up the river. From the trail of blood and the tram- 
pled condition of the snow the boys decided the beast was 
having a terrific fight with wolves. 

At intervals of about eighty rods a stand was made by 
the elk, and the wolves sought to surround and subdue him. 
For defense at these places the bull had wheeled about on 
his hind legs describing a circle; and evidently had struck 
with such rapidity and precision with his fore-feet, that 
from one to three wolves were killed at each stopping place. 

This spirited defense caused the attacking animals to 
retire a short distance where they sat in a circle upon their 
haunches to prevent the escape of the elk. When rested 
they would renew the onslaught. 

The trail was followed for a couple of miles when the 
boys sighted the fast-failing animal with the pack at his 
heels. Several of the wolves were shot, the remainder were 
frightened away and the elk was killed by Little Bill 
Brewer, 

It was the rule of hunters that: he who drew first blood 
from a venison animal received the hide and tallow — the 
most valuable portion at that time. As Roll had no family 
the division of meat was made between the older men and 
they departed for home. After taking the wolves' pelts 
Roll struck out upon another trail, and during the afternoon 
killed four does and a staggard almost within sight of the 
home of Jack, one of his companions of the forenoon. 

Bears. 

Bears could not have been numerous in this locality 
before our arrival or Major Brassfield, who was a better- 
trained hunter and owned better weapons than our party, 
would have had a longer notch-stick representing bear- 
killings. I recall but one of his stories which, however, 
was not a real bear hunt. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 73 

One evening at sunset the dogs created an unusual com- 
motion in the stable-yard. It was found, upon investiga- 
tion, that a bear had climbed a tree either to get a chicken- 
supper or to escape from the dogs. Brassfield confined the 
hounds in the cabin, procured a long pole and prodded 
bruin until he began to descend from the tree. 

A bullet pierced his brain as his hind-feet touched the 
ground, and this young, fat animal furnished the basis for 
the Major's declaration that: "bear-steak is powerful good 
eatin'." 

Our boys discovered bear-sign only a few times. One 
night, two specimens going northward, prowled about the 
Aunt Nancy Stanley place on the north hill. They helped 
themselves to a couple of crocks of milk at the spring- 
house and a small quantity of jerked venison. They were 
tracked to Batch grove where the trail was abandoned. 
Other signs were seen along the Skunk creek and near 
Mud lake but bruin succeeded in avoiding our hunters. 

Bear Shot With Bow and Arrows. 

One bright spring morning after the men-folk had gone 
to work, a small black bear appeared in our bee-yard. The 
children scampered to the house and reported to mother. 
She closed the door and cautioned silence and we waited 
the outcome of the honey theft. 

Meanwhile, John Thomas carefully, but hurriedly, 
tightened his bow-string and with his heaviest arrows 
slipped outside. 

Bruin nosed leisurely among the bee-gums, which were 
large or small sections of hollow logs. He chose one with 
a large opening. Rearing upon his hind legs he pulled it 
over, and with fore paws began clawing out the comb and 
helping himself to the honey. 

The bees swarmed out and settled upon him. Suddenly 
he pitched headforemost to the ground and rolled and 
grunted as if in great agony. The bees were stinging him 



74 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

mercilessly but we soon found that was not the cause of 
his fall. - 

John Thomas, from behind a tree, had been using his 
bow and arrows with good effect. Several of the steel- 
tipped shafts were sticking in the bear's body. One of 
them penetrated the ear of the victim and, apparently, par- 
tially paralyzed him. When we realized the bear was dis- 
abled, mother prepared a sulphur smudge which quieted 
the bees, and the bear was knocked in the head with an ax. 

The shot which saved that hive of honey doubtless was 
due to luck instead of good marksmanship; but the older 
hunters who had spent days in the unsuccessful hunt for 
bears were greatly chagrined that the boy sportsman had 
bagged a bear which had come to our door. 

This specimen had not been faring sumptuously — per- 
haps he had just awakened from his winter's nap. His 
carcass was very thin and devoid of fat, so we did not pre- 
pare the meat for food. 

Elk Tied With a Log Chain. 

Nearly all pioneer hunting exploits are similar in their 
action whether results are equal or not. The methods of 
one man follow a parallel with another, except for an occa- 
sional freak of fancy or an unaccountable lapse from the 
usual soundness of judgment. 

Major Brassfield, in taking aim at a young elk, either 
had miscalculated the distance of his target or the animal 
may have moved. Instead of reaching a vital spot the bul- 
let crashed through both shoulders stunning and crippling 
him. Wishing to try out the buck's tractableness or perver- 
sity the hunter decided to surprise his family by bringing 
in a live elk. 

He hitched a light log chain about the critter's neck and 
started ; but the elk did not stir. The Major pulled on one 
end of the chain and the elk on the other. The log chain 
did not part so one or the other of the contestants alter- 
nately was taken over the ground at a lively clip. If the 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 75 

animal took on too much speed the Major whipped the log- 
chain around a tree and brought the beast to a halt. 

The crippled elk grew weak from the excitement and 
painful exertion, so Brassfield succeeded in getting him 
into line and bringing the critter to the river's bank oppo- 
site the hunter's home where the victim laid down and 
would not budge. The chain hook was thrown over a limb. 
The Major mudded the wounds of the elk and proceeded to 
dress his own hands which were torn and bleeding from 
contact with the slipping and looping log chain and end- 
hook. 

He had done what he had undertaken, however; he had 
brought home the living elk. The animal was confined in 
an enclosure and kept for several years. 

Home-Made Gun. 

Perhaps the children of the Lyon family remember the 
old home-made gun which Uncle Peter assembled from the 
parts of several broken and dismembered shooting-irons. 

For several weeks there had been signs of an immense 
sized deer near the Lyon home — now the Dave Sketchley 
place — but the animal had kept clear of the hunters. 

After the week's supply of wood was chopped, Roll 
was given permission to visit at the Lyon homestead. Dur- 
ing his stay he was told about the deer and the boys regret- 
fully related that they were unable to take him. Roll said : 
"I would like to try tracking that stag." He was handed 
the home-made gun, and a roar of laughter followed. The 
chances for killing anything with the weapon looked very 
dubious but he proceeded to reconnoiter. 

On a point of the hill north of town the track of the 
deer was discovered and followed to near where the River 
street wagon-bridge now is located. Down the valley a 
short distance the hunter saw the deer browsing. Taking 
careful aim he fired but missed the mark. The bullet 
ranged to the right, and the report of the gun did not seem 
even to alarm the animal; for after listening a moment he 
resumed feeding. 



76 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Crawling on all fours Roll made a detour which 
brought him directly in front of the beast. It always is dif- 
ficult to approach a wild animal from windward but it was 
done by making an angle at the desired distance. This time 
the hunter took aim at a spot that he estimated would be six 
inches to the left of the deer's breast, pulled the trigger, 
and the stag fell with a bullet in his heart. 

My brother related this exploit with great pride; for, 
with approved brands of weapons all the community's 
members unsuccessfully had hunted this stag. He was the 
largest deer ever killed in this vicinity and was described 
as being the size of a two year old colt. 

The same afternoon, after several failures, Roll shot 
a small deer wearing only brow-tines; but he decided that 
Uncle Peter Lyon, although he had but one good eye, was 
a success as a gunsmith. 

Members of our family and the Lyon children became 
very proficient with bows and arrows. Many squirrels and 
wood-fowl were bagged in that way. 

The archer was painfully fastidious in the work of 
weapon making, as well as in the careful method of string- 
ing his bow. The slender, smooth-grained pieces of hick- 
ory were whittled into shape for the bow and the finishing 
touches given by filing, and scraping with a bowie-knife. 
Many of the arrows were tipped with steel — pieces of 
sharpened knitting needles — and adjustment was secured 
by trying out at a target. 

The outstanding characteristic of pioneers must be 
patience. I have known our youngsters to work hard all 
day at the archer field and if they made but one good hit 
they were encouraged for the next day's effort, and the 
practice was kept up throughout the season. 

Wild Turkeys. 

There was, in our family, an old gun which had 
belonged to our grandfather Brewer and had been given to 
his son Wilson. The gun was an ancient model and use 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 77 

had reduced its efficiency to the vanishing point. The lock 
was loose, the stock shattered and splintered. The imple- 
ment of destruction was considered to be more dangerous 
to the marksman than to the game target. Occasionally, 
however, when all other firearms were being utilized this 
gun was pounded into line and strapped into adjustment 
for use. 

The gobble, gobble, gobble of a flock of wild turkeys 
feeding through the Funk bottom, one day arrested the 
attention of our boys. Father and the neighbors were hunt- 
ing with the regular firearms, so Roll thonged the revolu- 
tionary blunderbus and shot sixteen of the birds after the 
dogs had driven them to shelter in the trees. Many more 
could have been taken but for the delay of re-tying and 
re-pounding the gun's parts after the shattering effect of 
each discharge. 

Wild turkey meat was in greater favor with us than 
that of the strong-flavored wild water-fowl. The roasted 
poults or the year old hens were firm but juicy and deli- 
cately flavored. Wild turkey eggs, also, were more pal- 
atable than wild goose or wild duck eggs. 

Shooting turkeys on the wing was not usually success- 
ful. If the birds were not dropped instantly the wounded 
victims, after falling, would run to cover and hide. With- 
out a good retriever losses were inevitable. 

Three Deer Killed Before Breakfast. 

A young brother who only was permitted to use the 
poorest guns when they were not in use by the older hunt- 
ers, struck out early one morning toward the Bill Funk 
woods south of town. He scanned the hillside and bottom 
clearing and was surprised to see three deer lying close 
together near where the Chicago and Northwestern railway 
outlines the field of my son, Frank. 

He fired and killed one of them. The other two jumped 
to their feet and seemed to be bewildered but they did not 
run. John Thomas re-loaded and shot another one. The 



78 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

remaining animal leaped about in a circle, evidently at a 
loss what to do. The delay gave the boy ample opportunity 
to re-load and shoot the third deer. 

The young hunter hurried home and related the exploit. 
His story was not credited at first, but members of the fam- 
ily finally accompanied him to the spot and helped to dress 
and bring home the carcasses. 

Another morning before breakfast this brother shot 
seven geese. These early morning achievements with fire- 
arms may give the impression that women were not espe- 
cially energetic in preparing a meal. It should be stated, 
however, that there was an abundant supply of game almost 
at our doors. It must be remembered likewise, that corn 
dodger was baked fresh for each meal, and fish or venison 
was fried at the fireplace for every morning repast. 

John Thomas was the fisher of the family; with hook 
or spear he kept the table supplied when the trap was not 
in use. 

The Skunk. 

The family introduction to the pioneer polecat occurred 
one warm spring evening on the Eyer place. The little ani- 
mal on a visit to the ox-stable presumably was stepped upon 
by one of the oxen. Such careless treatment evidently 
enraged the injured varmint for he liberally poured the 
vials of his wrath upon the unsuspecting ox and contiguous 
surroundings. 

The critters were panic-stricken; and bellowing with 
fear they rushed wildly from shelter and sought immunity 
in the deep water of the creek. 

The defense had been so well directed and so gener- 
ously applied that it finally was decided to burn the stable. 
We considered ourselves very fortunate that the attack 
had not been made on a member of the family or the cabin. 

The fire insurance agent had not invaded "these parts" 
at that time, consequently we were not prosecuted for 
arson. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 79 

The field of action was cleared and the injured polecat 
located near his burrow. He was killed and the skunk- 
house dug open. Fortunately for the diggers the mother 
skunk was not at home, but the eight pretty kittens did not 
grow to the size to commit barn-yard depredations. 

We did not sell skunk-skins during the early days, per- 
haps because we did not understand the art of capturing 
the fearless little varmint without arousing his wrath. 

The Iowa Polecat. 

A hunting tour to the vicinity of Bach grove was planned 
by "Hez" Van Dorn and Roll Brewer. One of the inci- 
dents of the trip was an experience with the Iowa polecat. 

Preparations for short distance hunting trips usually 
were made to remain several days. Shelter was prepared 
with brush, wagon-box and quilts. After rising in the 
morning the boys rolled their bedding into a bundle and 
laid it aside to facilitate the work of cooking and gun- 
cleaning. As game was brought to camp during the day it 
was dressed and hung up to await the home-coming. 

One evening when the boys returned to camp an unin- 
vited guest with a delicately shaped head and a black and 
white fur coat occupied a seat of honor on top of the roll 
of bedding. Like the real aristocrat the little creature 
seemed quite undisturbed at the appearance of the hunters, 
and although they made frantic but gentle efforts to dis- 
lodge him the skunk maintained his position. 

Finally, in desperation, Hez declared that the little vis- 
itor would have to make a trip by the rifle route, but which 
man should be the executioner? Neither one wanted to 
assume the responsibility of missing or wounding the pole- 
cat. They drew cuts for the chance. Roll won; seized 
his gun and with the warning caution from Hez: "For God's 
sake don't miss him!" he fired and the skunk instantly was 
killed. The accurate shot probably relieved the boys from 
the necessity of burying bedding, sacrificing the game 
already taken and the extra work of re-locating camp. 



80 REMINISCENSES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Hunting and Trapping Record. 

The young pioneer hunters seemed more enthusiastic 
in trailing game than their elders. Roll Brewer's highest 
record for one day's hunt was : five deer, a wolf and a fox. 
His highest record for one day's trapping was: four bea- 
vers, one otter, one mink, three polecats, two wolves and 
fifteen muskrats. The mink, otter and beavers were caught 
within a radius of about two rods square, at a point near 
the Illinois Central railway bridge. 

Trapping work was much more tedious and tiresome 
than hunting. A greater degree of caution was required in 
tracking, and more patience was necessary in studying the 
haunts and habits of fur-bearing animals. To successfully 
locate, arrange and set traps, a natural skill is indis- 
pensable. 

A good trapper could attend from thirty to fifty traps. 
They usually ranged over a trail of from fifteen to twenty- 
five miles a day. K catches were heavy the animals were 
skinned at once to relieve the trapper of the weight; other- 
wise they were hauled to camp on a hand-sled and taken 
care of after supper. Trapping camps were located in the 
fall and changed as often as fur-bearers thinned out. Trap- 
pers often remained from home several weeks, but I do 
not remember that we felt alarm at their extended absence. 

Muskrats, Mink, Otter, Beaver. 

Muskrats, like house-rats, seemed to follow settlement. 
They were not numerous when we arrived but within a few 
years a hundred muskrats a day were brought in from 
trapping and spearing. 

The first muskrat house seen by us was a burrow of 
grass and dirt at a point near the Edward's Hole on the 
south bend of the river. Gradually thereafter their num- 
bers increased. Later when beaver, otter and mink had 
been trapped off, muskrats were sought quite as industri- 
ouslv as the more aristocratic members of the fur-bearing 
family had been. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 



81 




82 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Full grown muskrat hides, during die early years, 
brought but five cents apiece. The skins of kittens were 
sold for two or three cents and they had to be in prime con- 
dition to bring that price. 

It was four or five years before the first house-rat 
appeared. He was tracked across the prairie for miles 
before he was caught and his identity revealed. The num- 
bers of this branch of the rodent family increased almost 
with phenominal rapidity, for they were not a commercial 
asset and were not trapped. 

Our trappers made the mistake, the first season, of 
carelessly stepping in the runs of the fur-bearers along the 
banks of the creeks and through the grass, thereby delay- 
ing their success in trapping. Experience soon taught them 
that scrupulous care was necessary to mask trap-setting 
work and reduce to a minimum the man-smell about bea- 
ver, otter or mink haunts by wading in the water when prac- 
ticable, instead of stepping on the bank. 

Traps set under water at the foot of an otter slide were 
reasonably sure to catch the web-footed carnivore. The 
same tactics usually would secure the wary beaver. Mink, 
also, were peculiarly cunning in avoiding traps, and when 
caught would fight fearlessly for life. Many times the 
creatures gnawed away parts of the body to escape from a 
trap. Our first mink was caught a few rods north of the 
Chase mill site where there was a large sulphur spring. 

The best hunting-grounds for beaver and otter were on 
the White-Fox, Beaver and Otter creeks. The large number 
of these animals did not indicate that they had been very 
sedulously trapped by the Indians, but they were quite as 
shy of the first trap set for them as at the hundredth attempt 
at capture. 

Perhaps the three last beavers caught on Beaver creek 
were taken by Roll Brewer. The traps were set in the eve- 
ning, as indicated above, at a point where the casteroids 
entered the water in the pond formed by their dam after 
leaving the burrow in the bank. In the morning the mother 
beaver and two kittens were captives. 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 83 

Mink skins sold in Des Moines for fifty cents each. 
Beaver skins brought two dollars, and up per pound — 
according to the season and primeness of the pelts. The 
skin of a medium-sized beaver weighed a pound, or per- 
haps a little more. Otter skins were sold for seventy-five 
cents to a dollar a foot; and the trapper, accordingly, 
stretched the skin to its lineal capacity. The longest otter- 
skin sold by our boys measured a little over seven feet 
from tip to tip — the end of the nose to the end of the tail. 

Hides for Market. 

The drying of flat hides for market was accomplished 
in this way. A square pole frame was used. Small holes 
were bored or burned through the poles at intervals of a 
few inches apart, and a skin was laced to the frame with 
basswood bark or buckskin thongs. The poles were spread 
apart and the hides stretched taut. They then were left to 
dry. When the number of hides outnumbered the pole- 
frame supply they were nailed to the logs on the outside 
of the cabin and on the door. The hides from animals 
killed only a few days before a marketing trip were salted 
and bundled instead of being stretched and dried. 

The uncut skins of smaller fur-producers such as bea- 
ver, otter, mink and coon, usually were stretched tightly 
over shakes which were trimmed to a point at one end 
where a hole was bored to facilitate hanging or carrying. 
Stretchers were removed when the skins were dry and used 
throughout the season. Occasionally the skins were pulled 
over a hickory withe which was bent into U-shape. The 
withe stretcher possessed the merit of being light and easily 
carried when suspended by a rope over the trapper's 
shoulder. 

When special marketing trips were made, several teams 
were necessary. A number of the neighbors co-operated 
and a procession of loads were put into line say, two or 
three loads of venison, a load of green hides, a load of flat 
hides and a load of furs. The return trip from Des Moines 



84 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

or Dubuque meant almost as heavy a consignment of home 
supplies. There never were any "one-way" empty wagons 
for pioneers. 

Tanning. 

Tanning was a little out of our line although we were 
compelled to do some of it. When Mam happened to have 
an inferior kettle of softsoap it was turned over to the men 
folk for use in tanning. Hides were immersed in the soapy 
solution to remain until the fur or hair could be slipped 
off together with the very thin outer skin. Occasionally 
the young boys slipped a squirrel or small varmint's skin 
into the regular soap barrel. If removed before the hair 
slipped the women folk were none the wiser, but if left a 
trifle too long and hair was discovered in the soap there was 
something doing in the jacket-dusting line. 

The regular tanning work was a long process of fer- 
mentations and soaking in ash, alum or lime water after 
the brains of the animal to which the hide belonged had 
been pounded into its inner surface. There was the inter- 
minable washing and cleansing process and the bath in an 
oak-bark brew as a finisher. The "brains" treatment was 
said to firm and full the skin, and packing in dried fowl 
manure or dog dung was the method of softening the 
leather. 

Finishing the skins after the wet process was no small 
undertaking. They were pounded, pulled, scraped, 
stretched, rubbed and twisted to insure pliability. This 
work was done by men, women or children, at any time or 
place and by any means or method which promised the 
greatest speed and excellence. The Indian color and smell 
were imparted by means of a huge smudge set in the smoke 
house. Deer hides were our most satisfactory tanning 
material. 

Scraping Horse. 

Fresh skins, or those in the process of tanning, were 
taken to a "scraping-horse" when it was necessary to 



HUNTING AND TRAPPING 



85 




86 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

remove flesh or fat from the raw surface. The "horse" 
was made from a piece of puncheon. Two holes were 
bored in the flat surface of the slab and pole-legs were 
inserted in them. This raised one end of the "scraping- 
horse" about three feet high while the other end rested on 
the ground. The hide was placed on the smoothed, rounded 
upper surface of the puncheon with hair or fur side down. 
The operator, with a dull draw-shave scraped from, instead 
of toward himself, until the skin-surface was cleared of 
fat or meaty adhesions. 

A wolf-pelt apron, skin side out, was worn for hide 
cleaning. The apron prevented some damage to clothing 
from grease or the tanning solution. It was used all the 
year 'round — or until it disintegrated. 

I have made hundreds of pairs of beaver, otter, coon- 
skin, sheepskin, calfskin, dogskin and buckskin mittens and 
gloves by hand. The work was continued until machine 
made hand-wear and the scarcity of home produced skins 
necessitated its discontinuance. 

Glove and mitten sewing were done with the hand back- 
stitch — one at a time, each stitch ahead overlapping the one 
behind it. The seams were welted which made three thick- 
nesses of skin to be sewed through. Waxed linen thread 
and a three-cornered needle were used, and if the needle 
slipped while pulling the stitch through, a deep cut across 
the thumb and forefinger was the result. When finished 
these articles did not rip. Glove turning was a long and 
tedious work. Beaver, coon, or otter backs with home- 
tanned buckskin palms sold for $10 a pair. Later the dog- 
skin backs and calfskin fronts were much cheaper. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Early Professional Men. 

A unique company assembled at Newcastle in the late 
summer of 1851. A Methodist exhorter named Hughes 
visited our town at the solicitation of Uncle Billy Stanley. 
Elder Hughes hoped to be able to establish a permanent 
ministerial circuit; so, a camp-meeting was called to con- 
vene at our home. The season was not an auspicious one 
for company. Almost no crops had been raised, but 
although material benefits were withheld we were very 
glad to be alive and well. 

Invitations were sent to the settlers about the country — 
at Fort Dodge, Homer, Pea Ridge and Marshalltown. 
Large numbers attended and remained over the four days' 
session. The attendants from the military post at Fort 
Dodge brought with them a well-filled list of commissary 
supplies which was most fortunate for them — and for us. 
Several Indians were present and brought in game every 
day. 

Arrangements were made for cooking out of doors 
under a pole frame-work covered with boughs which fur- 
nished protection from sunshine or a light shower. Forked 
sticks supported the poles from which were suspended the 
cooking-pots. Meat was stewed in the half-barrel sized 
kettles which were utilized — at other times — for sugar-sap 
or soft soap boiling. These meat orders were pieced out 
with jerked venison and smoked fish. Some of the settlers 
brought supplies of coffee and potatoes. 

For potato baking a hole was dug in the ground and 
partly filled with heated stones, upon which the potatoes 
were placed. Ashes and live coals were heaped on top of 
them and they were left until done. The Indian bucks were 
adepts at potato roasting. 



88 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Several days before the date of the meeting we were 
kept busy in preparation. The corn-cracker was worked 
overtime to furnish a sufficiency of meal. Elder Hughes 
arrived a couple of days ahead of the company. In order 
that the supply of corn-dodger might be kept in advance of 
consumption he suggested that we at once begin baking. 
This was done; and the cakes were corded in rows on the 
shelves of the cabin. The fatted sheep was prepared for 
the feast, but the quality of mutton-stew on that occasion, 
today would not influence a prodigal's return to his home 
and family. 

Groups of from two to four attendants arrived afoot. 
The same number tramped beside a horse or took turns in 
riding the beast, and whole families came with oxen and 
€Overed-wagons. 

The tents which we had brought from the East still 
were in fair condition and with the prairie-schooners were 
utilized for shelter and sleeping quarters. It, however, 
was more comfortable to rest at night in the open air in 
close proximity to the many smudges. The mosquito was 
no respector of members of either secular or religious as- 
semblies; and billions strong, his industrious family de- 
manded attention night and day. 

The sessions were held in the edge of the grove and 
were characterized by their length and monotony. The ex- 
horter taxed his powers of endurance in speech and ours in 
listening. Several of the visitors signified their desire to 
follow the lowly Master, but I did not identify myself with 
the movement. 

The week was a memorable one to me. Not because it 
was the first religious gathering, but on account of the 
week's strenuous work of cooking for the crowd of hungry 
attendants. The copious supply of spiritual food dispensed 
by Elder Hughes in no way reduced the physical appetite 
of the apostles of faith. Many of the visitors assisted in 
preparing the meals, but I never have been able to appre- 
ciate the effort which was necessary to care for the members 
of the assemblage. 



EARLY PROFESSIONAL MEN 89 

Early Ministers. 

I suppose that Rev. Bird, of Des Moines, or Elder 
Hughes arranged for other itinerant exhorters to serve us, 
for Elder Johns often came to us from Boonsboro. Joshua 
Housework presided at the meeting-house services, inter- 
mittently, during the winter of 1851 and 1852. Jamie 
Woods, a young man of Scotch extraction and ministerial 
aspirations, came west in 1851. This young disciple acted 
as spiritual advisor and Sunday-school leader during the 
absence of Reverend Housework. He also cheerfully as- 
sisted the settlers in logging, rail-mauling or other heavy 
labor. So far as I know he did not receive any compensa- 
tion for his services in church-work; although a minister's 
keep, such as it might be, always was assured. 

The unusual wedding ceremony mentioned elsewhere, 
seemed to open the way for numerous pastoral calls on the 
Schultz family. Jamie began to pay court to Hulda Schultz, 
sister of the bride. Everybody in the settlement loved the 
young preacher, but Hulda said she did not think she was 
cut out for a minister's wife. Woods remained here about 
a year, and unfortunately for us, procured a pastorate in 
another location. 

It is doubtful whether some of the early exhorters were 
authorized preachers, or the early lawyers authorized at- 
torneys. They came and went in much the same way and 
if the practice was irregular no one objected. 

Spiritually we were served occasionally, during the 
winter of 1852 and 1853, by Elder Kent and an exhorter 
named David Eckerson, with Judson Barkus as resident 
helper and Sunday-school superintendent. While Elder 
Kent traveled our district he met and married Mrs. Havi- 
land, an early resident of Webster county who, compared 
with many other pioneers, was well provided with this 
world's goods. Elder Ezra Rathbun and Elder Jones also 
came from Des Moines at long intervals. 

Attention to domestic and material interests made the 
trips of brother Kent less frequent and they finally ceased 



90 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

altogether. Following Kent, Eckerson and Barkus were 
the regular circuit riders Montgomery, Skinner and Day, 
whom many of our town's people remember, along with 
the itinerants of the various religious denominations. 

There was no sect or creed distinction in the early 
church work. If the ministers were listed or labeled no one 
seemed to know it. Assistance and advice seemed to be the 
purpose of the leaders and for a long time no denomina- 
tional differences arose. 

Second Public Meeting Place. 

I attended Sunday-school services at the Stanley cabin, 
and there learned verses from the New Testament which 
was presented to me by granny Peabody, who periodically 
came to our cabin in the capacity of midwife. 

The growth and attendance at both the sacred and secu- 
lar services made it necessary to change the meeting place ; 
so a building at Division and Union streets — a log dwelling 
occupied by the Wheeler family who kept a stock of sup- 
plies — was chosen. Day-school sessions also were held 
here with Mrs. Wheeler as teacher until another change was 
necessary. 

Lawyers. 

The summer of 1852 brought two young attorneys, 
Jasper Jackson and Joel Benton, who were seeking a loca- 
tion in our new country. 

The first-named member of the proposed firm of "Jack- 
son and Benton," declared himself to be a lineal descendant 
of the former president, Andrew Jackson. The claim of 
an illustrious progenitor, however, did not seem to impress 
the pioneers who were diligently striving to subdue nature 
and compel her to smile upon and approve personal effort. 

Jackson and Benton were extremely bright and genial 
young men. They made some very excellent business sug- 
gestions which for the time were not followed. They ad- 
vised against the slipshod methods of taking, staking, and 



EARLY PROFESSIONAL MEN 91 

trading claims without record; they sought to show that it 
was unbusinesslike to assume a financial obligation without 
requiring a note or mortgage security; they warned us that 
the then prevailing " 'pon honor" rule eventually would 
prove troublesome if not disastrous. 

These law partners, who had been student chums, re- 
mained at our home nearly all summer. They made trips 
to Fort Dodge and Homer, in addition to visiting the vari- 
ous settlers about the country. Finally they decided that 
the settlements were too remote from each other for profit- 
able work. They made the jesting remark as they departed 
for Dubuque: "If you succeed in locating a county seat we 
will return." 

It elsewhere has been recorded that our family ac- 
cepted no pay for entertainment of newcomers. The eve- 
ning before their departure Jackson and Benton requested 
that the bill for board and lodging be prepared for them. 
They were assured that no charge would be made. They 
insisted, but the proffer of money resolutely was refused. 
The next morning they set out, afoot, upon their journey. 

Dinner-time arrived. In the iron pot beside the fire- 
place we found a buckskin pouch containing three golden 
eagles; quite enough money at that time to have purchased 
the claim of a discouraged, home-sick settler. 

The following spring Wesley Brown, a prepossessing 
but unassuTning young man, with rather the manner of a 
minister than of a lawyer, came to us from a frontier town 
in Wisconsin. The young attorney walked the entire dis- 
tance. In addition to his light clerical work, he willingly 
performed daily manual labor. 

Brown remained until displaced by William Berkley, 
who went to Homer from Illinois in the fall of 1852, and 
later came to Newcastle. Berkley's assertive, aggressive 
personality marked a striking contrast from the quiet man- 
ner and conscientious work of his predecessors. He went 
into any case or game to win — for Berkley — and the suc- 
cess of a client or welfare of the community was incidental. 



92 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

William Berkley remained in Newcastle for several years 
and prospered financially. 

Doctors. 

The full-fledged disciples of Aesculapius were not wel- 
comed among us with the enthusiasm which promised re- 
munerative returns, for it was difficult to displace the 
home-prepared roots-and-herbs remedies. Our first doctor 
was a young man named Lester Prentiss, who came from 
our old Indiana home in 1852, and stayed with us during 
the summer and fall. 

The predisposition of people to be "taken sick" during 
the stormiest weather is proverbial. The change from short 
trips and comfortable methods of travel to long trips on 
almost impassable roads was very discouraging. Besides, 
in some families, male doctors were not popular. Compe- 
tition, at that time, was not the life of trade nor could any 
division of profits be considered. The "old grannies" free- 
ly contributed their home-made dope and graciously threw 
in their services, so the young physician deserted our aspir- 
ing hamlet and returned to Indiana. 

Doctor Prentiss was followed by Benjamin Hamilton, 
M. D., and Doctor Sterling, Both were elderly men, but 
were unsuccessful and did not remain permanently. Dr. 
DeTarr, of Boonsboro, occasionally was called to our settle- 
ment. 

Doctors of medicine, for many years, ministered to the 
sick as an avocation while pursuing some other kind of 
work such as storekeeping, milling, drug-handling or tav- 
ern-keeping. Doctor Benedict, a man of worth and wis- 
dom, supplemented his professional earnings by working 
as a day-laborer. 

An army surgeon, Charles Keeney, was stationed at 
the military post in Fort Dodge, from 1850 to 1853, but I 
do not think he visited us professionally. As time passed 
the lists included doctors Baum, Cochran. Sage, Coyle, 
Jewel, Spears and others. Dr. Hampton Corbin, of Homer, 



EARLY PROFESSIONAL MEN 



93 



declared the country to be disgustingly healthful. The 
story still facetiously is told that at Hook's Point it was 
necessary to kill a man in order to locate a graveyard. 



1 




I 


1 




I 






1 



STAIi I'OINT, A POTTAWATTA.MI !•:. 



CHAPTER Vll I. 

Indian Reciprocity. 

We never were troubled with Indians, although bands 
of Pottawattamies must have broken camp shortly before 
our arrival. We found many newly cut coon trees along 
the river and fresh camp-lire ashes at various points. 

Small numbers of Indians often came to our home and 
swapped supplies or sold canoes and trenchers — wooden 
dishes. They committed no depredations, however, nor 
did they evince any animosity at our presence. They were 
absolutely honest in dealing with our family and mani- 
fested a well developed degree of reciprocity. A case in 
point : 

During the summer of 1850 Little Bill Brewer, who was 
to make a trip to Des Moines for supplies came up from 
Hope Hollow and requested that I keep his wife company 
during his absence. Permission was given and we began 
the trip on his pony. I rode sidewise behind my cousin 
and clung tenaciously to his knit galluses, for I was in 
continual danger of falling off backward and in momentary 
dread of pitching forward into the mud. 

While the pony was laboring through a particularly 
bad portion of swamp a quartet of barebreasted Indians — 
one a boy about my own age — approached us upon the 
right. We drew rein and manifested our friendliness. 
They wanted to trade for tobacco but as my cousin had 
none with him the redskins accompanied us to his home 
and were supplied with the commodity. 

The horse showed signs of fatigue from the trip and 
one of the braves dismounted, deftly lifted me from behind 
my cousin, placed me upon his own pony and the rest of 
the journey was made by this stalwart son of the plains 
walking beside his mount. 



INDIAN RECIPROCITY 95 

Before the visitors departed northward the moccasins, 
but newly worn by the Indian boy, were presented to me 
by "Star-Point." This name we concluded must be correct 
since he touched reverently, one by one, the points of a 
large crimson star tattooed upon his breast, and with fin- 
gers indicating the number of points he swept his hand 
toward the heavens. 

The gift in itself was of little consequence; but I have 
remembered the occurrence as evidence of the untaught 
instinct of equitable exchange. 

The third day after the departure of Little Bill for Des 
Moines, Star-Point and the young boy returned afoot. A 
deer had been killed and dressed by them. On a pole, the 
ends of which rested on the Indian's shoulders, was sus- 
pended by the feet the carcass which they wished to trade 
for tobacco. Finding my cousin away they indicated their 
desire to remain until his return. They jerked the venison 
which had been brought for our use, and at night slept on 
the ground outside the cabin door. During the following 
days they hunted and cured the game taken. 

The wife of Little Bill was a young woman, and I a 
girl; but we did not think of being afraid of the Indians. 
Throughout the four days' sojourn they resigned themselves 
to the delay quite as a matter of course; and their repose of 
manner, their attitude of patient assurance, inspired confi- 
dence instead of fear. 

Mail; Indian Hunters. 

For some time the various settlers acted as mail-car- 
riers. Whoever made a business trip to Des Moines, and 
later to Homer, brought the mail for any of the other fam- 
ilies. The first mail-route was covered, alternately, by 
Amos Brewer and Jim Doty the early part of 1852. The 
same season Doty was elected sheriff. The carriers rode 
our horse to Des Moines at intervals of a few weeks, more 
or less, according to weather and condition of the trail. 

The season "Long Tom" came into our possession he 



96 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

was the heroic figure in a life-saving episode — or so his 
rider declared. 

The day was mild and sunny and the tired mail-carrier 
must have dozed in his saddle as he crossed the prairie 
southwest of our settlement. As he came opposite a point 
of timber at about the Low Lawn farm, he was startled by 
five or six redskins who were camped in the shelter of the 
trees. They suddenly sprang forward gesticulating vehe- 
mently. The Indian vernacular sounded hostile to Amos; 
he did not wait for explanations but beat the ribs of "Long 
Tom" with his boot-heels, and the surprised animal made a 
record run for home, 

A frightened backward glance by the fleeing carrier 
assured him that the savages had mounted their ponies and 
were in pursuit. This fact lent strength to the heels of the 
rider who spurred the energies of the excited horse. The 
mail-carrier was greatly disgusted when, soon after he 
reached home, the redskins rode into our yard and peace- 
ably unfolded the account of a buffalo-hunt which had 
extended from the western borders of the state. 

A bunch of seven animals had been separated from the 
herd; these were followed by the Indians who now sought 
our help to pursue and kill them. 

Buffalo Hunt. 

Jack was sent to notify Major Brassfield at Hook's 
Point. He was requested to take the trail where the Indi- 
ans had camped, while our men were to take separate 
lines in a westerly direction and draw together at a desig- 
nated camping-place. Early in the morning the Indians, 
my father, two brothers, Isaac Lyon and Sam Schultz began 
the buffalo-hunt. 

The first day there was nothing to report except that 
the trail and grazing-place were located. It was agreed 
that the next day the horsemen should make a circuitous 
detour and turn, if possible, the buffaloes back toward the 
footmen. On the afternoon of the second dav the bunch 



INDIAN RECIPROCITY 97 

of bison was located in what now is Webster county, at an 
old wallow where the animals had herded during the ear- 
lier years. 

The Indians with their ponies were masters at the 
rounding-up and some of our hunters were expert as rifle- 
men. A common expression was: "If Brewer or Brass- 
field draws a bead on game the critter is as good as dead." 
A racing buffalo, however, is not so easy to shoot. Evening 
was approaching before the sixth animal was killed; and 
the gathering darkness gave opportunity for the bull to 
escape, although he carried several musket-balls in his 
anatomy. 

These buffaloes were, as far as I know, the only ones 
seen after our arrival. Two of them were shot by Major 
Brassfield; one each by my father and brother; the other 
two were killed by the Indians; and the redskins doubtless 
bagged the wounded bull on the way back to their hunting- 
ground. 

When the town of Homer began to develop metropoli- 
tan aspirations a regular line of communication was estab- 
lished between that place and Newcastle; and "Long Tom" 
equipped with saddle-bags was ridden by Bob Turner who 
brought the mail from our friends in the East. When our 
town was officially platted, Rob Martin was named as post- 
master. 

Hardships of Mail Service. 

Harris Hoover who several years later, was in the mail- 
service on the northern Iowa frontier, often recounted expe- 
riences in which he swam swollen streams, braved freezing 
blizzards, imperiled his life on ice-fields and daily faced 
the possibility of attack by wild beasts or Indians. The 
human animal invariably pressed into the breach and 
proved liis endurance when the weather was too severe for 
a horse. One incident follows: 

Hoover started afoot to cover his route on the north 
fork of the Des Moines river. The weather was bitterly 



98 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE. IOWA 

cold and the snow untracked except for the trails of wild 
animals. He kept to the river for guidance, although this 
course made the distance much greater. 

For several hours a pair of wolves had been skulking 
along the river's bank and occasionally howled a hideous 
chorus as an accompaniment to his march. He started a 
fire at midday to thaw his frozen victuals. While resting 
and eating, the wolves were more obtrusive in their atten- 
tions. They came so closely upon him during the after- 
noon that he threw off his knapsack, loaded and primed his 
gun, and prepared to shoot at least one of the creatures and, 
perhaps, frighten the other away. 

Two shots rang out from the river's bank before the 
carrier fired, and the wolves dropped dead in their tracks. 
Hoover held the rifle to his shoulder and awaited develop- 
ments. Soon three Indians approached him from the right 
and indicated to him that they were hungry. They poured 
the contents of the mail-pouch upon the snow, but as it 
contained no food, replaced the letters and returned it to 
the carrier. 

The white man divided his supply of jerked venison 
and corn-cake with the savages. They pointed out a short- 
cut across the prairie and, for many miles, trudged ahead 
of him through the deep snow to his destination. Hoover 
often expressed his gratitude for their friendliness and 
companionship at that time. 

All Night in a Tree. 

My brother, John Thomas, on one of his trips to the 
Bill Funk woods, was not so fortunate in locating himself 
as Roll had been on the trip to Homer. The boy set out 
with bow and arrows to hunt squirrels. The purpose of 
squirrel hunts was not to supply meat but to furnish light, 
unsalable skins for children's mittens which were made 
from the uncut skin with fur inside. 

The bulldog, when not helping the hunting canines, was 
the boy's constant companion and accompanied him on this 



INDIAN RECIPROCITY 99 

trip. The young hunter kept within the river's range for 
some time but a frisky squirrel led him astray. Scanning 
the tree-tops instead of paying attention to the trail, he 
soon realized that he was lost so sat down to think it over. 

He had no gun to discharge which might attract atten- 
tion and no means of making a signal fire or lighting a 
torch. He could shout, but unless a searching party were 
near he could not be heard; and of course, no one would 
be alarmed at his absence, at least, until nightfall. 

The lad tried to send the bulldog home but Lockjaw 
whined and refused to leave him. The dog's master never 
before had been so far from his mother and thought he 
never had seen such mammoth trees or so many of them. 
The sun was not visible but he continued the effort to locate 
himself by reaching the river or coming out on the prairie. 
The usual perverseness of confused travelers pursued him 
and he could not escape from the timber belt. 

The evening shadows began to deepen and he knew 
he must spend the night in the woods. He dared not sleep 
on the ground for fear of being devoured by wolves. 
Lockjaw could have protected him from one member of 
almost any forest family, but the dog could not be relied 
upon to kill a pack. 

An immense tree with low-growing limbs and a grape- 
vine decoration was selected as the place for his night's 
vigil. He took off his wampus and arranged a band about 
the body of the dog just back of the fore-legs, and a slender 
grapevine was attached to the band. Retaining his hold 
on the free end of the vine, he climbed the tree and selected 
as comfortable a crotch as was available. The dog was 
hoisted to a crotch below the one selected for himself, and 
the two were located for the night. 

Meanwhile, the family were wondering as bedtime 
approached why the youth did not return. An older hunter 
we did not look for until he arrived, no matter whether 
he was gone a day or a week. Nothing could be done how- 
ever until morning, and we did nothing. 

Morning came; but the boy did not. Jack was in- 



100 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

structed to scout down one side of the river and Roll down 
the other side, keeping within shouting distance of each 
other. Father struck out south toward the trapping camp 
of a half dozen Indians which was located in the Biernatski 
bottom. He explained the reason for his visit. The red- 
skins at once circled out into the forest with the air of con- 
fidence that meant the successful termination of the search. 
One of the squaws, an unsolicited assistant, signified her 
intention of canoeing up the river. 

Daybreak had signalled John Thomas and Lockjaw 
from the tree. The boy decided from the early morning 
lighting of the heavens that his directions could be straight- 
ened. He, however, took the precaution of trimming twigs 
from the saplings along his course so someone could trail 
him if his calculations were incorrect. 

He was making his way through the Briggs' timber 
about the middle of the forenoon, when he heard a pro- 
longed whistle shrilled through the air. Joyfully he 
shouted a reply and ran in the direction of the sound. A 
few rods brought him to the river's brink where the squaw 
was patiently waiting. The lost was found; but he was not 
disposed to trust himself to the tender mercies of an 
unknown Indian woman. The bulldog, contrary to his 
usual unsociableness, immediately made friends with the 
squaw by frisking about, fawning at her feet, leaping into 
the canoe and bounding from the reluctant boy to the ges- 
ticulating canoeist with such apparent understanding of 
her good intentions that at length the lad decided to accom- 
pany her. 

The long piercing whistle again was sounded. When 
camp was reached two of the bucks already had returned. 
A signal gun was fired. Soon another and another as 
answers from different directions, and two from the distant 
hunters up the river. 

The squaws were so solicitous for the comfort of the 
lad that he feared they were going to keep him with the 
band. He was overjoyed, however, when pap pulled into 
camp. After the hungry boy and dog had been fed they 



INDIAN RECIPROCITY 101 

made good time toward home where Jack and Roll already 
had arrived. Jack had discovered the trimmed saplings 
and found the wanderer had crossed his own trail several 
times in his circuitous meandering. Eventually he would 
have been overtaken by his pursuers had not the search 
been terminated by the squaw. 

John Thomas declared he could not be lost a second 
time; but as he lived to be but a few years older the oppor- 
tunities for testing his assertion were not numerous. 

Four members of our family were claimed by death 
within seven months: father, Jack, John Thomas and Julia 
Ann. My youngest sister, Mrs. F. L. Meeks, was born 
during this period of affliction. 

Indian Guests. 

Two Indian bucks enroute from Iowa City to Sioux 
City on government business stayed at our cabin all night. 
The evening was spent in explaining to the boys their 
method of reckoning time and counting. I still remember 
the numerals to ten, although I do not know the correct 
spelling or to which tribe division or tongue they belong. 

The braves used many English words and were efficient 
in expressing their wishes by signs and sounds. Their 
twelve moons correspond to our calendar. The flower 
moon, corn moon, hunting moon and snow moon represent 
May, September, December and February respectively, 
with other subdivisions. Distance they measured by a 
day's journey on foot, and the time of day is noted by the 
sun's rising, its setting time, and noon mark. The balance 
of the day is sleeping time. 

It is quite remarkable that prairie fires did not escape 
control and reach the forests in this locality, but there had 
been no fire damage to timber. The redmen were very 
careful when using the prairie fire method of corraling 
game. A band of Indians would encircle several miles of 
area heading game toward a central point. When within 
an agreed upon circular line the hunters, at a proper dis- 



102 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

tance apart, would fire the grass and form a ring of back- 
fired surface. When the bare, burned space was completed 
the grass in the enclosure was ignited, burned toward the 
center and the game was caught within the flaming wall. 
Numbers of the animals, seeking freedom, dashed 
through the fire only to be blinded, burned and finally shot 
by the Indians who were closing in on the suffocating crea- 
tures at the center of the fire-screen. The "fire-corral" 
method was a notoriously cruel one and only was practiced 
when the need for food was imperative. It was not thought 
to be sportsmanlike; besides, the buckskins were more or 
less damaged by the heat. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Platting of Newcastle, Improvements, Amusements. 

Newcastle was located in the horseshoe bend of the 
Boone river because it was thought that nature's encircling 
arm of water guaranteed immunity from cyclones and dis- 
astrous storms. 

Our family settled near the creek and river so the 
water supply for man and beast would be constant. The 
need for fishing-grounds also was considered, as well as 
the better chances for success in trapping and taking big 
game at their drinking-places. 

Water-routes, moreover, furnished an easy warm 
weather method of transportation for produce. The frozen 
surface of a river, likewise, provided an unobstructed win- 
ter-highway. The woodman's troubles were reduced to a 
minimum by felling trees upon the ice for the well shod 
oxen easily could snake home the logs on its smooth 
surface. ~^ '■ 

The river as a natatorium also was a success. The idea 
seemed to prevail that summer swimming every day would 
equalize the long period of winter weather when swimming 
was impossible, so from fall until spring bathing activities 
were held in abeyance. 

Then, too, the ever pressing problem of laundry work 
was solved more or less satisfactorily at the river's edge, 
and the fear of the periodically recurring prairie fire was 
allayed somewhat by the proximity of water. 

The Town Plat. 

Newcastle was laid out during the early summer of 
1853, by my father, Wilson Brewer, and a nephew, Amos 
Brewer, who was a surveyor and had come west for the 
work at the solicitation of father. 



104 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The town was located on land owned by us on the NW. 
1/4 of the NW. 1/4 of Section 6, Township 88, Range 25. 
The name, Newcastle, was a reminder of the old Virginia 
homestead, Highcastle-on-the-James. Father often referred 
to our town as Newcastle-on-the-Boone. 

The recorder's books show that Newcastle was platted 
by Wilson Brewer and William Frakes, October 27, 1854; 
the surveyor named is S. C. Wood. Considerable time 
elapsed before the county seat was located at Newcastle. 
Correcting and later platting of additions may have con- 
fused the names of the surveyors and account for the mis- 
take. As before stated, however, Amos Brewer was the 
surveyor of the original Newcastle plat. 

The spring after the platting a part of the town site was 
traded to William Frakes, which may account for the addi- 
tional error that the platting was done jointly by Wilson 
Brewer and William Frakes. 

Months sometimes elapsed before property purchased 
by settlers was legally recorded. Hundreds of parcels of 
land— claims, town lots, or timber tracts — were swapped 
several times without legal record. Delaying transfer gave 
the traders and short-time holders opportunity to turn land 
without the bother and expense of legal routine. When 
record finally was made, if the intermediate dealers 
requested, their names were omitted from the deeds, and 
the documents showed only the names of the original hold- 
ers and the latest purchasers. 

Political Possibilities; Father's Trip East. 

The political pot already had begun slowly to seethe. 
The shrewd, far-seeing men in the aspiring towns of Homer 
and Fort Dodge began early to organize their forces and 
secure settlers for their sections of country. 

Foreseeing that a contest for political supremacy was 
inevitable, the leaders in our community realized the neces- 
sity for a concerted movement to procure additional set- 
tlers for the Boone valley. A Fourth of July gathering 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 105 

accordingly was arranged and the celebration was held in 
an oak grove on what now is Second street, west of 
Prospect. 

A committee of the whole, after discussing means and 
methods, decided that Wilson Brewer should visit adjoining 
states to the east of us for the purpose of interesting and 
securing settlers. Nels Omstead said: "No one but Wils 
was willing to assume the hardships of the journey." 

Father set out upon the trip the middle of July, 1853. 
The few days of preparation was a depressing period for 
the family. We were accustomed to delays of travel in 
hunting, prospecting and marketing, but this proposed long 
journey seemed quite different. When the time for final 
goodbys arrived the boys were not to be found; only 
mother, myself and the babies were left to speed him on 
his way. Not a word was spoken and no tears were shed; 
to have ventured speech would have meant complete sur- 
render of self-control, and a manifestation of weakness 
when courage was necessary would have marked the crown- 
ing humiliation of a pioneer. 

I felt that this parting removed something vital from 
my life and I admit after this lapse of years, that I often 
sought the solitudes and cried, and cried. I now believe 
my loneliness arose from the premonition of the journey 
my father so soon was to take "from which no traveler 
returns." Not once during his absence, however, did I 
find my mother in tears. 

The months sped away. One beautiful sunny day late 
in the fall, the boys rushed into the cabin shouting: "Pap's 
coming! Pap's coming!" Mother suddenly sat down. 
The tension of anxiety was removed and the tears flowed 
freely. 

Father covered the trail on foot to Iowa City from 
whence he took a jerkie, or stage, via. Burlington, Iowa, 
through Illinois to the old Indiana home. At many of the 
towns visited he emploved agents to influence emigrants to 
come to our Boone valley settlement. He endeavored to 
induce parties who were already on the road to other locali- 



106 RBMINISCENSBS OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

ties to change their course, and he visited personally any- 
one who was reported to have the western fever. 

The town-agency method turned many settlers in our 
direction, among them the Funk brothers, and through cor- 
respondence Talman Wiltsey decided to take up the far- 
west trail. Sam Bates and party were met on the road and 
their course changed from Missouri to our Iowa settlement. 
Bates, later, traded for our home farm and was instru- 
mental in securing many additions to our numbers. The 
Wilson brothers who already had seen the star in the west, 
arranged to cast their lot with us as soon as their Badger 
state holdings could be sold. Walt and Sum came out and 
located late in '54, and moved among us the next spring. 

Father reached the eastern limit of his journey in six 
weeks and soon began the return trip. He worked through 
Illinois, stopped at Chicago, made many Wisconsin points, 
followed the northern Iowa trail, visited Hewitts and Dick- 
insons at Clear Lake, and made his way back to Newcastle. 

The tour extended over fourteen weeks and pap arrived 
home late in the season. The outcome of the trip gave very 
gratifying results. During the following two years there 
was such an inflow of settlers that the future of our city 
seemed assured although other sections of the country, also, 
were receiving their quota of newcomers. 

Improvement Activities. 

There was a continuous round of chopping and logging- 
bees throughout the winter to prepare material for building 
purposes. Father was kept busy locating claims, advising 
for business ventures and improvement, and in swapping 
land to satisfy any disgruntled settler. He arranged to fur- 
nish material for house, store and mill building, while some 
of the new arrivals furnished cash for the equipment and 
operation of enterprises. 

The present-day rapid methods of land-seekers and pro- 
moters doubtless would have turned the heads of our pio- 
neer immigration agents although they were not slow in 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 107 

grasping the situation. Funk brothers and Talman Wiltsey 
not only bought land for speculation but they loaned money 
at 24 per cent interest. Nels Omstead declared he bor- 
rowed money at 40 per cent, and profited on the deal. The 
enterprises of the Wilson brothers form a large part of the 
town's later history and are too well known to require 
repetition. 

It has been reported that in many Iowa towns bankers 
bought government land on time at $1.25 per acre, and sold 
for $1.75. It then was up to them to dispose of the "stump- 
tail," "brindle-pup" or "wild-cat" currency. 

Store and Tailor Shop. 

Immediately after father's return from the East a log 
store-building was built at Superior and Bank streets and a 
stock of merchandise w^as dispensed to customers by Amos 
Brewer; within a few months, however, the goods were sold 
to Fritz Snyder. A tailor, Tom Thorpe, had a counter in 
this store. A hewed log store was erected in 1854, on First 
street, east of Superior, and Joe Wheeler had charge of 
the emporium until it was taken over by Lockwood, and 
later by Paine; after which a second structure was joined 
to the first and the double log building became a combina- 
tion store and tavern. 

The staples carried by all early supply-stations were: 
tea, coffee, tobacco, ammunition and whisky. Goods were 
swapped for hides, furs, venison, wool or any produce 
which could be disposed of in Des Moines or Iowa City. 
Whisky, in addition to being sold at stores was dispensed 
at taverns and often was kept by private families in keg 
or barrel lots. The domestic supply, however, was for 
neighborly distribution. 

Liquor was served at early gatherings from a pail with 
dipper or gourd, free to all unless there were a voluntary 
expense contribution. Whisky sold from twenty-five to 
fifty cents a gallon and was about equal in strength to a 
yoke of oxen. Occasionally a man drank to excess but it 



108 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

was the exception instead of the rule. It was quite as com- 
mon for the men-folk hospitably to pass the whisky-flask 
to one another at a camp meeting as at a political gathering. 

Talman Wiltsey and wife and the Beach brothers came 
west at the same time. They stayed with our family until 
their cabins could be built during the summer of 1854, 
after which time Wiltsey kept supplies and entertained 
many travelers and newcomers. The cabin later was used 
as a stable. The Beach brothers, Dave, Than and Ben, 
located and built on their claims in the west part of town. 
Their house also was a stopping place for land-lookers. 
Almost every cabin served as a tavern on a small scale. 

Tom Thorpe, our first tailor, made a suit of clothes for 
my nineteen year old brother. It was his first store suit and 
cost nine dollars; a part of the payment was made in ven- 
ison. The vest material was black satin with red flowers 
in relief. Following the regulation homespun and hickory 
it furnished a notable contrast as a splendid specimen of 
sartorial art, and accentuated the expression of nature's 
method of attracting the opposite sex by the display of 
beautiful colors. Other young men were equally prodigal 
in personal adornment; the Schultz and Lyon boys being 
the possessors of hand-embroidered waistcoats. 

There were, likewise, within the ranks of the older men 
many fancy jerkins in evidence at evening gatherings. I 
believe Norval Hellen was the alleged leader for novelty 
along this line. The prize garment was made from the 
skin of a pet calf. The brown and white mottled calfskin 
vest and the shining plug hat worn by Hellen, will be 
remembered by many as the distinguishing marks of his 
apparel. Doeskin vests were quite common. 

The hat worn by my father was a stiff" model about half 
the height of the sik tile of today. This was the regulation 
summer head-piece for men who did not wear straw-platts. 
John Maxwell had no time for tailors. He declared his 
wife made him a pair of trousers from a perfectly good 
strip of striped hemp carpet. Nels Omstead asserts that 
knee-britches made from a couple of grain sacks can't be 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 109 

beaten for wear or for looks when worn by one of slender, 
graceful build, especially when the rope puckering-string 
is knotted into a bow and hangs outside the boot-tops. 

Third Meeting Place. 

Immediately after the removal of Joe Wheeler's mer- 
cantile stock to First street, as recorded elsewhere, the day 
and Sunday-school sessions were transferred to the resi- 
dence now owned by Maggie L, Smith, on Bank street, 
between Wilson avenue and Seneca street. The building 
was erected in 1854 as a public meeting place. Amos 
Brewer acted as schoolmaster until the change was made to 
the Shipp property on Division street. The ministerial cir- 
cuit-riders mentioned in another chapter did some work at 
this point, but by this time denominational grouping was 
advancing. 

I have followed the line of public meetings thus far 
only because it had not been before made clear from the 
early years. The town's political history from 1852 is 
well known. It has been well written by others. I only 
will state that the counties of Yell and Risley were united 
in 1853 and called Webster. Father was active in the 
effort to subdivide Webster county and establish the county- 
seat at Newcastle. The general assembly of Iowa convened 
in Iowa City and approved, December 1856, the bill to 
divide the county of Webster and create the new county of 
Hamilton with our village established as the countyseat. 
Father died a few days before this legislative approval of 
our political plans. He, however, had had no previous 
knowledge of an effort to change the name of the town. He 
died unaware of the fact that Newcastle, which he had 
founded, and named, and loved, passed out of existence 
as his own life ebbed, and Webster City came into existence 
in its stead. 

Pioneer Amusements. 

Superior street, the main thoroughfare, was laid out 
wider than the others and was to be used as a race course. 



110 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

It permitted a long, straight stretch of track from the pres- 
ent location of the Illinois Central railway tracks on the 
north, to Brewer's creek on the south. Many fast "hosses" 
have been ridden over this speedway. 

Horse-racing and bowery dancing were the usual 
amusements at public pioneer gatherings. The eastern 
exposure of the Wilson avenue hillside between Walnut 
and Pleasant streets served as a natural amphitheater for 
witnessing the horse races. No residences obstructed the 
view and settlers from miles around attended the sports. 

Of course, there were always the discussions of the 
present and future possibilities or "hosses" entered — their 
build and blood, their gait and weight, their age and 
achievements. There was, invariably, the "boss" that 
NEARLY wins, and his disgruntled owner. I suppose 
there never was a pioneer horse-race where money or its 
equivalent did not change hands by betting. Most pioneer 
preachers were "hoss-fanciers." Elder Housework was a 
notable example. He would abandon a ministerial trip 
if racing dates could not be arranged to accommodate him. 
Major Brassfield would travel miles to be present at a race. 
I do not know whether his horses ever won money or not, 
but I do know that he kept racers as long as he lived. His 
bay mare or grey geldin' and his sorrel or "claybank boss" 
at least were winners in their talking points when explained 
by the owner. The members of our family, likewise, were 
admirers of good horse flesh but I do not remember that 
they were very successful in picking winners. 

The sport of dog-fighting occasionally was indulged, 
and canine points were quite as enthusiastically extolled as 
those of the equine family. Wrestling alwavs was staged 
with numerous contestants. A mat referee of today would 
have had a bad time deciding a pioneer "rassel." It was 
not unusual for the winner to settle the losers by fighting 
them in the street. 

Foot-racers and the hop-skip-and-jump champions 
always were in evidence with the usual wordy accompani- 
ment, and the records detailed — at this distance — would 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 111 

make the present-day pole-vaulter or modern marathon 
champion look to his laurels. Shooting-matches usually 
were side-issues. They were not so generally amusing as 
the sports and drew only the small bmich of "dead-shots" 
or aspiring riflemen. 

The test of ox-strength was a frequent diversion. A 
lizard was loaded with "nigger-heads" and the contesting 
yokes of cattle alternately tried out. The winners, of 
course, pulled the heaviest load. 

The ox "tug-o'-war" was a strenuous proceeding. The 
two yokes were headed in opposite directions and the pull- 
ing chains fastened to heavy beam double-trees. It was 
necessary for one yoke of cattle to pull the other voke 
backward ten feet in order to win the contest. 

The exhibition was an exciting one. If a chain gave 
way the oxen pitched head-foremost to the ground and the 
free end of the log chain became a dangerous weapon. 
John Butler's oxen and our yoke of bulls usually were the 
best bets. The cattle were so evenly matched that the loss 
of a pull by either yoke was attributed to a "leetle" too 
much excitement. 

Bowery Dance; Picnic Dinners. 

The early bowery dance was held in any natural grove 
chosen by the entertainers. The ground was smoothed and 
rolled until it was firm, then swept clean for the dancing 
surface. Later, platforms were laid and pole frames sup- 
ported the cut greenery of vines and branches. 

Anyone who wished to dance was at liberty to do so 
and the women accepted the invitation of any man who 
solicited their assistance — whether the partners were quite 
agreeable to them or not. There were wall flowers in the 
olden days; not from neglect, however, but because the 
girls did not care to dance. The fact that a girl could not 
dance was no excuse. She was unceremoniously inducted 
into the cotillion and soon learned from actually executing 
the figures. 



112 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

A pleasant anticipation was the picnic dinners served 
at Independence Day or other summer "getherin's." We 
did not have the culinary delicacies or pastry creations 
which were served later but everybody dined as a big fam- 
ily and visited with all the settlers. When the big circular 
spread of tablecloths was made on the ground and the vict- 
uals placed, the children were not told to go back and 
wait — as was the case when there was company at home; 
but they were treated with, at least, a semblance of the 
deference shown to children today. 

Pioneer children were not, however, in the predicament 
of a recent writer whose childhood's lines were cast in the 
period of "waiting till the second table." He declares that 
until he was grown he did not know there were any parts 
to a chicken except the neck and back. In the "airly" 
days the supply of cooked chicken or wild fowl was limited 
only by the capabilities of the cooks in preparing them. 

No, we did not have frosted cake and ice cream but we 
did have salt risin' bread with jam spreadin' and berry pie 
which was quite good enough for us. 

Conversing with Joth Lyon a short time before his death 
he said of the early picnics: "Eating with the grown-ups 
was a treat, and sprawling on the ground while doing it 
was equal to two treats. It was sure-enough fun to be told 
by the heads of families to: 'jest sail right in everybody; 
retch and help yourselves and don't be bashful.' Yes, 
there was some difference from the home method of stand- 
ing stiffly at the table, having the plate for two to eat from, 
filled with victuals you didn't want and be told to clean it 
up before you could have any more — well, Sairy, they 
were good old times, anyway." 

Snap and Ketch 'Em. 

Some games were played at all early dancing parties — 
usually kissing games. "Snap-and-ketch-'em" furnished 
about as strenuous exercise as the "jig-time" dances. A 
couple sat on chairs in the middle of the room with arms 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 113 

interlocked and chairs braced. A girl snapped her fingers 
at a young man and the fun started. Around and around 
the center couple they ran the girl dodging, ducking and 
evading the clutch and doubling tactics of the speeding 
pursuer. 

The sprinting qualities were well tested amid the cheers 
and jeers, the titters and tee-hees and the smart sallies of the 
crowd before the victim — perhaps purposely slowing down 
- — finally was captured. At this interesting point the young 
man's troubles often had just begun. The forfeit of a kiss 
for the catching was contested quite as energetically as the 
race had been. There was uproarious laughter and such 
encouraging expressions from the on-lookers as: "Kiss 
'er, Bill!" "Look-ee, he can't do it," "Do you want some 
help, Bill?" "Liza Jane's too much for 'im," "Don't do so 
much foolin', the rest o' us want a chance." 

The performance proved the endurance and persistence 
of both contestants and the tussel ended only with the vol- 
untary surrender of the girl or taking the kiss by the exer- 
cise of adroit generalship or the application of superior 
strength. 

An anemic, white-livered young man could not have 
passed muster with pioneer girls, and he would have been 
made miserable as the butt of constant ridicule by both 
boys and girls. To gain favor men had to be able — not 
to say anxious — to take their part at play or work, and in 
self — or family defense. 

"Getherin's." 

The announcement that a neighbor was to have a "geth- 
erin' " did not mean he was scheduled for an abscess in 
some portion of his anatomy. When we heard Uncle Peter 
Lyon or Aunt Nancy Stanley was to have a "getherin'," we 
knew there was to be a party of some kind — usually a 
dance. 

There were periods, after settlement was somewhat 
advanced, when "getherin's" were announced for nearly 



114 RBMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

every night in the week either near home, at Homer, Hook's 
Point, Fort Dodge, Liberty, Mineral Ridge or Marshall- 
town and the attendants thought no more of making the trip 
in lumber wagons, bob-sleds, on horseback or afoot, than 
we do today of an excursion on the train. 

My two brothers. Jack and Roll, were frequent attend- 
ants. Jack never danced a step in his life, but Roll would 
dance every night if the opportunity presented itself. He 
told of an occasion when he walked from Batch Grove to 
Homer to attend a dance. Starting in the morning, two 
deer were shot on the way to Newcastle. The skins were 
removed and carried home where he arrived for dinner 
and the journey to Homer was resumed early in the after- 
noon. 

The dancing party disbanded after daylight the next 
morning, and Roll, with a couple of companions reached 
home about two o'clock P. M. They were preparing to 
retire when word reached us that Major Brassfield was to 
have a "getherin' " at his home near Liberty. The boys 
at once made ready for the trip on our horse and two bor- 
rowed ponies. 

The water was high. They rode off the bank of the 
river at about the Weedman place and reached the opposite 
bank in safety. Swimming the river would not have been 
necessary as they could have circled the bend and reached 
their destination without crossing at all, but the north trail 
was thought to be better. Roll declared that but for the tall 
grass and bushes waving and striking him in the face he 
would have gone to sleep riding along the way. 

They arrived at the Major's about dusk and were cor- 
dially greeted by the host who casually remarked: "Boys, 
maybe you will see a fracas before this dance is over." 
The boys immediately were all attention, but the Major 
merely said: "Just wait and see." 

There were several young men from the Fort Dodge 
district who had been attending neighborhood parties and 
became unduly hilarious and boisterous in their manner. 
The Major decided the way to preserve order was to nip 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 115 

disorder in the bud and he delegated himself a committee 
of one to do the nipping. He announced the "getherin' " 
a week in advance. The night arrived and the expected 
disturbers appeared. 

The dance progressed to midnight and the Fort Dodgers 
began to talk loud and repeat the words of the fiddler as 
he "called off" the cotillion changes. Half jokingly they 
tried to trip the visitors, made sport of the missteps of the 
dancers and systematically sought to annoy them. 

The Major walked up to the burliest of the bunch, took 
hold of the shoulder of the offender and forcibly faced him 
about. "See here, young man," said he, "I never have 
struck a man without giving him warning what to expect, 
but I never warn a man the second time. You behave while 
you are in my house or you go out of it to the buryin'- 
ground, and the rest of your crowd will go the same way 
if they interfere." 

His grip of steel, his powerful frame and the glint in 
his eye evidently impressed the disturbers for they an- 
swered not a word. The Major continued: "I'm goin' to 
attend every "getherin' " in this neighborhood this season 
and I'm goin' to be in the same mind I am tonight, I never 
draw a bead on anything but once! I never strike anyone 
but once! I never warn anyone but once!" He folded his 
arms across his breast and quietly requested the musician 
to resume his work. The dance progressed without further 
interruption and the neighbors were relieved of the anxiety 
of possible future trouble. 

It often was necessary for pioneers to act as their own 
policemen. They never shirked the responsibility and usu- 
ally performed the work — at least to their own satisfaction. 

Pole Swings. 

Pole swings were about as freely patronized as the 
present hazardous sports of the amusement parks. Poles, 
say fifteen feet long, were peeled and dressed to about three 
or four inches in diameter. Two clevis-shaped bands of 



116 RBMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

iron were fitted over a strong limb and bolted to the upper 
ends of the poles. When the lower ends were put through 
holes in a piece of puncheon and secured with wooden 
pins the swing was ready for operations. 

Swings were made wide enough for two persons to sit 
side by side but that line was not often followed. Permit- 
ting a man to pull a rope attached to the seat, or allowing 
some one to "run under" the swingers was too tame and 
inactive for full-grown, healthy pioneers. Only the very 
old or the very young were given assistance. 

The usual method was: two venturesome candidates 
stood up in the swing facing each other. They were given 
a start or took a running start for themselves. As the sway- 
ing poles reached the farthest point of vibration, the person 
representing the higher body bent his knees, leaned back- 
ward and pushed until the point of equilibrium was passed, 
when his body gradually assumed the upright position. On 
the return swing of the poles the opposite person duplicated 
the action of the first. 

The resistance soon was overcome and the participants 
were becoming acquainted with the treetops. The two who 
could "work themselves up" to the point of describing the 
lower half circle, or force the swing to a horizontal with the 
limb to which it was fastened were thought to be both mus- 
cular and courageous. 

When the exertion of the swingers ceased the slowing 
down began. If the couple were a young man and a young 
woman, they usually sat down facing each other and "let 
the old cat die" quite as poetically — or prosaically — as 
young people do today; unless some strong-armed joker 
succeeded in catching the flying rope starter and jerking the 
occupants from their seat. 

Pole swings were maintained for a long time in the 
grove west of Prospect and north of Second street, also 
north of the Illinois Central railway tracks and in the woods 
south of Brewer's creek. 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 117 

Dances. 

I remember very well the first dance I ever attended 
away from home. It was at the cabin of a neighbor on 
what now is the F. D. Yomig farm south of town. My 
brothers and I walked the entire distance and enjoyed the 
recreation, notwithstanding the fact that the road led 
through hazel-brush, gooseberry thickets, fields of Spanish- 
needles and begger-lice burs. 

Father had brought to me from Des Moines a light 
calico dress and some red ribbon for neck and hair. My 
mother finished the dress for the dance, and the costume 
was quite a change from the homespun and home-dyed 
daily apparel. The outfit was given to me as a reward for 
working in the field during father's absence on his trip to 
the fort. 

The young lads of the neighborhood and the bachelors 
who attended dances, mutton-tallowed their boots and 
ordered fried pork for supper the evening before a "shin- 
dig" so they might ham-gravy their hair into subjection. 
The work usually was so well done that the foreheads and 
necks of the subjects shone with grease throughout the eve- 
ning. Laundering the bed clothes was a progressive prob- 
lem since a thorough hair-greasing usually lasted from one 
dance date to another. 

The hair-oiling with many families, in addition to the 
beautifying process, served a further purpose of reducing 
the activities of vermin to the extent, and in the proportion 
of generosity and frequency of the application. The fam- 
ilies unafflicted with the scalp-disturbers assumed that a 
"preventive is better than a cure," so followed the fashion. 

Anointing the head was common to both young men and 
young women, and a grease-spot on the shoulder of a hick- 
ory shirt told the same tale that a powder-patch on the 
Prince Albert coat tells today. 



118 REMINISCENSES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Dancing Costumes. 

My father and mother did not dance but they were 
enthusiastic entertainers. The evening the Beach brothers 
arrived in town they attended a party at our house. 

The boys became hilarious as they viewed the barn- 
door breeches worn by father. The homespun material 
having been used for some time, had bagged and worn at 
the knees. My mother, with frugal instinct, had cut off the 
legs of the garment close to the body; then exchanged the 
legs, turned them "hind side before" and resewed. This 
brought the baggy knee-places to the back of the legs and 
gave the appearance of going in one direction while facing 
in another. 

Working trousers were always close-fitting and high- 
ankle length. This particular pair having been worn, 
shrunk and re-seamed soon were seeking the acquaintance 
of the wearer's calves; but he was undisturbed by the 
humorous sallies and joined heartily in the merriment at 
his own expense. The easterners, however, very soon 
grew accustomed to the eccentricities of necessity. 

The appearance of short-legged "pants" was changed 
somewhat by Jake Funk, Mike McGonigle, Tom Bonebright 
and others who tucked their abbreviated jeans into their 
boot-tops. Notwithstanding the popularity of cowhide boots 
for parties, they were not always in evidence at dancing 
functions. Among others, John Lyon usually "tripped the 
light fantastic" without foot-covering. He claimed the 
"pigeon-wing" figure only could be executed properly 
when barefooted. 

Nels Omstead attended a dance at Homer. Numbers 
of the guests remained all night and as sleeping accommo- 
dations were short he stood with his back to the fireplace 
and dozed. When daylight arrived Nels found the trou- 
sers' legs where they covered his calves were scorched to 
a crisp and fell into holes when touched, so the grain-sack 
adornment, mentioned elsewhere, became his Sunday best. 

Brad Mason was the Beau Brummel of social gather- 
ings. He wore kid pumps which he had brought from 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 119 

Boston and his many fancy dancing steps were the wonder 
and envy of old and young. His brother, Frank, however, 
often grasped the overhead beams with his hands and did 
the double-shuffle in boots which he declared had been 
made over the end of an ox-yoke. 

Frank Mason, on his first visit at our house, with true 
Bostonian courtesy selected the daughter of the family — 
myself — as his partner. He never tired of telling how he 
enjoyed that evening and he often related the circum- 
stances to my children and grandchildren. Frank declared 
in his inimitable way, that Johnnie-cake and pumpkin-but- 
ter with parched-corn coffee served as refreshments at the 
entertainment; the account has been the standing joke 
among the town's-folk for many years. 

Walt Wilson's chosen habiliments for a summer social 
were a straw hat and a long linen duster over his 
every day clothes. He outclassed the barefooted dancers 
by wearing socks to protect his feet from the roughness of 
puncheon floors. Walt never missed a "hop" unless he was 
sick; and in his own home he and his wife were splendid 
entertainers. 

Jake Funk gallantly, although unconcernedly, accepted 
the attentions of the young women. Attired in cotton jeans 
trousers and his "coat of many colors" — so designated 
because of the patching and repatching which had made 
the original material invisible — he was a conspicuous fig- 
ure. Rube Bennett and Nate Prime wore skin-tight trousers 
which obviated the necessity for knit gallus supports. 
Many youths in our locality rolled their "britches" legs 
above the boot tops. An attendant often was made uncom- 
fortable if the jokers discovered "a letter in the post office" 
and the victim soon made his escape. 

The young hunters of the '50's, for cold weather par- 
ties, prided themselves in the possession of buckskin 
breeches. While these garments were not so ornamental 
as the Wild-West ranch styles they certainly were pictur- 
esque in pattern and unique in decoration. The coonskin 



120 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

caps — plucked or unplucked — were immense in size and 
topped a shock of hair, which if unoiled, might compare 
favorable with that of the biblical temple razer. 

For winter trips the deerskin wampus with sheepskin 
collar was a wonderful wind excluder. Blanket-shawls 
were worn for many years by the older men. It was not 
uncommon for the regular bed-blanket to be utilized as a 
shawl, and the home-woven coverlet was deemed a fancy 
and desirable lap-robe. 

I wish the motion picture artist could have reproduced 
from the original, one of those old-time "hoe-downs" at 
which the men kicking, stamping and genuflecting rivaled 
the antics of Indian dancers. The bashful girls dressed in 
linsey-woolsey, the sedate women in five-foot hoop-skirts 
and balloon sleeves, were swung 'round half a dozen times 
Iby their partners with such force and velocity that only 
occasionally did their feet touch the floor. 

The fiddler, who carried his Stradivarius in a meal- 
sack, tuned his instrument and shouted to the company: 
^'Git yer pardners fer a cuttillyun!" While keeping time 
with feet, head and body he sang along with his music 
something like this: 

First four forward, and side four divide. 
Change partners in center, and swing to the side. 

and keep on around. 

First two to right, and bow to the ground. 
Bird in the cage, and three hands around; 

and balance you all. 

Ladies to right, and gents Highland Fling, 
Make him a bow, and cheat him or swing; 

and al a man left. 

Ladies to center, and gents walk around. 
Pass by your partners, and swing 'em around; 

and all promenade. 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 121 

On to the next one, salute and sashay, 

And double a shuffle, the old-fashioned way; 

and grand right and left. 
First four to right, and gents do se do, 
Half right and left, and ladies do so; 

and all hoe it down. 

Ladies to center, form star with hands four, 
Left hand to partner, and do it some more; 

grand right and left, 
and all run away — 

SEATS. 

Women's Head-Wear. 

Winter head-gear for women was the home-made hood, 
knitted scarf, nubia or cloud. A blanket shawl was used 
for heavy muffling. The slat sunbonnet was worn in sum- 
mer and for a quarter of a century no new design or modi- 
fication of the old one was made. Home-platted straw hats 
for girls and close-fitting straw bonnets for the elderly 
women were the Sunday rule. 

The slat sunbonnet usually hung flatly and loosely sus- 
pended by the strings upon the wearer's back instead of 
being worn on the head — especially after the victim was 
out of sight of Mam's watchful eyes. Whatever could be 
said in favor of its appearance the sunbonnet was an 
obstruction to sight and an impediment to hearing, hence, 
our disinclination to wearing it. 

The season, in springtime, when the boys donned their 
new straw hats was jestingly declared to be the indication 
for a "wet spell." The wetting which sent the straw-crown 
into a skyward peak and the rim into a shoulder droop, also 
affected the slat-sunbonnet. Although the slats were thin 
wooden strips the water warped them out of shape and it 
was a question whether the head-wear of boys or girls was 
in the lead in regard to looks. 

Bright-colored sunbonnets with circular cape, buttoned- 
on crown, and ruffle-edged head-piece which was profusely 



122 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

corded with candle-wicking, and starched to the stiffness 
of sheet steel superseded the old black slat-sunbonnet, and 
were thought to be very artistic. 

Shakers were an unusual innovation. These head- 
pieces were of finely woven straw fashioned into a tube- 
shaped affair about fifteen inches in length, and a trifle 
greater in circumference than the common stovepipe. One 
end was woven closed. Placed horizontally, the under sur- 
face of about six inches in width was cut away so the shaker 
slipped on from the back of the head and fitted closely 
against the wearer's chignon. The extra length of tubing 
extended beyond the face and seemed to have been 
designed to prevent women looking in any direction except 
straight ahead. 

The shaker was trimmed with a couple of cloth bands 
across the straw crown and a fifteen inch linen skirt which 
fell about the wearer's shoulders. The color of the trim- 
ming was black, or at least, neutral. Bright colors for hats 
or clothing were discouraged and often severely censured. 

The flare-faced poke bonnet marked the extreme oppo- 
site from the shaker, and was a humming-bird in compari- 
son with this inartistic and uncomfortable crown-piece. 

A distinctive head-dress for a few years, was worn by 
young matrons. Assuming the responsibilities of wifehood 
automatically acquired the right — or perhaps the obliga- 
tion — to wear a lacy, frilled, white cap either covering the 
top and back of the head or circling the face and tying 
under the chin. One of the most beautiful memory pictures 
of my mother is one in which she wore her fluffy white cap. 

The custom of cap-wearing for women soon was discon- 
tinued; the reason perhaps was a scarcity of the proper 
material for their making. Old grannies, however, wore 
caps, but the color of cloth and trimming was limited to the 
quantity and kind on hand — usually neutral or black. The 
members of some families wore night-caps but ours did 
not. 

Hair always was dressed very plainly. It was smoothed 
down over the ears and fastened at the back of the head 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 123 

with a tucking comb, which sometimes was of immense size. 
If curls were worn and side-combs used, a style admired 
was the plain shell-band with a row of white button-like 
decorations. The hair of young girls was bobbed a long 
neck-length and held back from the face with a circle comb 
or a strip of cloth. This "bobbing" process was almost 
identical for the men but they parted the hair at an angle 
of forty-five degrees and tucked the ends under, forming 
a roll about the ears and neck. 

Bloomers; Dresses. 

The first pair of bloomers I ever saw were brought to 
Newcastle in 1852. The unusual style for women had been 
introduced in the East a season or two before and was 
worn here by a refined and cultured young woman named 
Martha Bellville. 

The costume was more picturesque than the bloomer- 
suits of today. The skirt reached only to the knees, and 
the narrow-legged pantalets extended a little more than 
midway between the knees and ankles. When we compare 
the six foot hoopskirt and these abbreviated, narrow bloom- 
ers the contrast is quite marked, but Martha wore the gar- 
ments at home and in public. 

Miss Bellville married Brint Webster, a pioneer of 
Newcastle. He died within a few years. Mrs. Webster 
visited me at my home in Webster City about 1897. She 
was earning a livelihood in public work and wore the reg- 
ular style of dress for women. 

The year's gown-list for a girl usually included a lin- 
sey-woolsey dress with blue, yellow or brown checks for 
winter. Linsey-woolsey dresses never wore out. One had 
to outgrow them before another was provided. The skirt 
was tucked and could be lengthened as one grew tall, but 
as the body expanded the waist and sleeves became vice- 
like in their grip. The arm covering receded to the elbows 
and the buttons were torn from their moorings before the 
garment was handed down to the next of kin in the female 
line. 



124 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Two factory — coarse muslin — dresses were provided 
for summer wear. Originally white, one of these dresses 
was dyed black with logwood, or a dark brown with the 
juice from walnut hulls or bark. The other was dyed yel- 
low with copperas. Variety in colors for sheepskin robes 
and chair cushions, and for carpet stripes were obtained 
by combining bluing dye with copperas for a handsome 
green in lights or darks as the strength of the dye permit- 
ted. Dyed material "set" with chamber-lye was declared 
to be "fast" colors. The pioneers' dye-pots were almost 
as indispensable as the stew-kettles for nearly all weaving 
and knitting stock was hand-dyed. 

When denim came into use, blue and brown denim 
dresses were provided for girls. For Sunday wear they 
were quite scrumptious in style with two or three bias fac- 
tory stripes, hand-stitched, about the lower circumference 
of the skirt and two stripes over the shoulders. The denim 
of fifty years ago also wore indefinitely. 

A young woman's wardrobe was unusually well sup- 
plied if it contained a figured delaine or merino gown for 
party wear. My first delaine dress was purchased at Meser- 
vey's store in Homer. The ground weave was a dark purple 
over which meandered a bright green vine profusely sup- 
plied with yellow berries. The dress was made with a 
close-fitting waist and full skirt; but the combination of 
colors or quaint dressmaking did not discourage the atten- 
tions of Johnnie Prime, an account of whose trip as my 
escort is related elsewhere. 

Wadded and quilted petticoats undoubtedly were de- 
signed for comfort but they were the embodiment of inar- 
tistic heaviness and the end of the limit for inefficiency. 
Instead of serving the purpose of warmth the wearer's 
nether limbs were half frozen beneath its balloon-like ex- 
panse. It had, notwithstanding, one redeeming feature. 
When outgrown it could be slit open and used as a bed-pad 
or for a horse blanket. 

Young children kept pretty close to nature during the 
summer months, the encumbrance of clothing being but a 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 125 

home-woven, tow-cloth shirt, knee length. Mud and water 
did not soil or damage shoes and stockings that were not 
worn, and the absence of underwear reacted favorably on 
the laundry list. Children were not alone in their lack of 
the last named item of apparel for grown-ups were not 
handicapped with an over-supply of underclothing. 

My First Beau. 

The White-Fox school house was built in 1854, and 
Josie Middleton chosen as teacher. Many revival meet- 
ings were held at White-Fox and the attendants usually 
made the trip on foot. I have walked to the meetings scores 
of times with my girl chums. 

It was from a White-Fox gathering that Johnnie Prime, 
my first beau, escorted me home. On the memorable occa- 
sion we dropped behind the crowd of pedestrians to escape 
their joking remarks. While too bashful to converse we 
pursued our way along the brush-lined road approaching 
the river. 

Suddenly we were startled — at least I was — by what 
seemed to be the bark of wolves a short distance ahead of 
us. We hurried along hoping to pass the danger zone in 
safety. The yelps from the adjacent thickets seemed so 
close that, momentarily, we expected to be attacked. Per- 
haps I was too frightened to scream for help from the com- 
pany ahead of us or perhaps I was hoping Johnnie could 
beat the beasts single-handed; anyway, I waited for my 
escort's initiative. 

The young man drew his bowie-knife and we hastened 
onward. Having gained the last clump of underbrush near 
the river I drew a breath of relief when from the dark 
thicket at our very heels sprang two creatures on all fours. 
Involuntarily I screamed with fright but Johnnie was game 
and sprang upon one of the objects with murderous intent. 
The practical jokers sidestepped the attack and a roar of 
laughter signalled the company at the river's bank who 
were awaiting the outcome of the joke on us. 



126 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Names. 

The wife and husband of the family commonly were 
called "mam" and "pap"; but they spoke of each other 
as "my man" and "my woman." To designate father from 
son, the former was called "old" and the latter by the first 
name as: "Old" Prime and John; or they were called the 
first names as: "Nate" Prime and John. 

Tallman, Maria and 'Gene represented the Wiltsey fam- 
ily. Maria was pronounced Ma-ri, as two syllables with 
the long sound of "i" accented. Later the use of given 
names declined somewhat and the family name as: "Pray," 
"Stoddard," "Johnson" became popular. 

"Grandpap" and "granny" were the names applied to 
aged members of the family although no disrespect was 
intended in so naming them. We familiarly spoke of 
"Grandpap" and "Granny" Frakes; and the same designa- 
tions applied to Joe Peabody and wife. The old doctor- 
women likewise, were called "granny." Our two early 
midwives were "Granny" Prime and "Granny" Peabody. 

Nearly every family, doubtless with the desire to ex- 
press affection, called two of its small members "Bubby" 
and "Sissy." These diminutives gradually were shortened 
to "Bub" and "Sis," and the baptismal name finally was 
applied. 

Middle-aged neighbors often were called "uncle" and 
"aunt" whether or not any blood relationship could be 
traced. "Aunt Nancy" and "Uncle Billy" were the names 
applied to the Stanleys. "Aunt Peggy" and "Uncle Peter" 
were recognized as father and mother of one of the Lyon 
families. "Uncle Jakey" and "Uncle Ike" referred re- 
spectively to Paine and Lyon. 

"Mam" and "pap" gave place as time passed to 
"maw" and "paw"; later these titles were shortened to 
"ma" and "pa"; still later they were trimmed to the infan- 
tile appellations "mama" and "papa." These now have 
been superseded by "mother" and "daddy." Recently a 
college professor has recommended that children call their 



PLATTING OF NEWCASTLE 127 

parents by the given names. This educator also favors 
calling children by their real names, such as: Margaret 
Ann, Jerusha Jane, Jonathan Peter or Samuel Jacob, in- 
stead of the widely applied and meaningless misnomers, 
dear, darling and sweetheart. 



CHAPTER X. 



Modes of Traveling. 



The pleasures of ox-team and prairie-schooner travel- 
ing and pathfinding have been mentioned in an account of 
the long emigration-trip from Indiana. For shorter dis- 
tances walking was the pioneer method of travel. My 
father and brothers, Major Brassfield, William Russell and 
others made many trips to Des Moines afoot. 

Occasionally two men traveled together but more often 
one person made a solitary pedestrian journey except for 
those habitual companions, the dog and gun. The round- 
trip to the capitol city was not made in a day as at present, 
but with favorable conditions about eight days were re- 
quired. 

Immediately after the land-office opened in Des Moines 
father made a footback pilgrimage on the settlers' sacred 
mission of entering land. While at the fort he purchased 
a second horse, and the return trip was made on horseback. 
The price paid for the animal was two hundred dollars. 
He was tall, rawboned, and today would be called a "corn- 
crib" but his endurance was phenomenal. The horse was 
named Long Tom, and several years afterward he was 
traded to Reverend Skinner for a small racing mare. The 
circuit rider recognized the advantage of long legs for 
slough-wading while the corn-crib capabilities were tried 
out in the fields of the minister's parishioners. At this 
early day horse-racing or betting on races or elections did 
not discredit a preacher. He could accept a meal of vict- 
uals or a glass of toddy with equal propriety. 

Borrowing and lending were so freely practiced it 
would have been difficult for a new arrival to determine to 
whom personal property belonged. Horses were no excep- 



MODES OF TRAVELING 129 

tion to this rule, and these equine operators usually were 
kept busy on the up and down equestrian trail to Des 
Moines. 

Horseback Visiting. 

The number of horses increased, so both men and 
women made visiting trips on horseback; and not infre- 
quently one poor beast carried the man, wife and baby. 
Over-Sunday visitors at our house, the mention of which 
always caused much merriment, were the five members of 
a family. On the horse were Mr. Foster and his wife and 
a baby in her arms; a small child rode in front of the 
father and another behind his mother. The patient old 
animal was followed by a six-weeks' old foal, a yearling 
colt and two greyhounds. It was not unusual for visitors 
to remain a week or more. 

The way to number the horses in a neighborhood was 
to attend a Sunday service; if the owner of a horse was 
not there the beast was in evidence, borrowed and ridden 
by someone else. Stealing horses would have been unprof- 
itable work during the early years of our residence, but as 
their numbers increased the community was harassed with 
horse-thieves. 

Grist Carrying. 

For a long time grists were carried to mill on horse- 
back. The sacks loosely-filled were laid across the ani- 
mal's back. If the grist was large, the attendant walked. 
I do not think our settlement was responsible for the man 
who, when unable to balance the grist across his horse's 
back, shook the grain to one end of the sack and put stones 
in the other end. Horses or oxen were pretty sure to be 
mired if wagon milling-trips were made during the spring 
or fall rains. At such times the grist — a sack at a time — 
was packed out of the slough on the man's shoulder. 

Our townsman, Jacob Bossert, admits that he started 
from Hook's Point with an ox-team and twenty bushels of 



130 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

corn, and that the oxen frequently stuck in the mud. He 
was compelled to carry the corn to solid ground so many 
times that, for fifty years, it has been the standing joke 
among his friends that "Jake carried twenty bushels of 
corn fifteen miles on his back." 

First Peddler; Saddlebags. 

In the summer of 1852 the first peddler arrived. Jede- 
diah Marks' pack was piled high on the back of his horse 
and the saddle-bags were bulging with the small and more 
valuable articles of his stock. He carried everything from 
jews-harps to andirons. Marks stayed at our house three 
or four days. When ready to depart he offered my mother 
a pair of stockings as payment for his board and lodging 
but they were refused. This peddler made periodical trips 
during the summer months. A few years later Cy. Smith 
came to us with the more pretentious peddler's-wagon. He 
was so well pleased with the country and the town's pros- 
pects that he decided to remain. As the town grew and 
business expanded "Cy" became one of our prosperous 
merchant-bankers. 

The saddle-bags of sixty years ago were leathern side- 
pocket receptacles with a flap protection over the openings. 
A smaller pocket inside the larger one furnished a con- 
venient place for money and small valuables. These bags 
either were fastened directly to the saddle or hung from 
the ends of a strap across the saddle's center. 

Sledding. 

The use of a "lizard" was an early method of transpor- 
tation if snow was thin or sufficiently packed to prevent its 
pushing ahead of the contrivance. The lizard was made 
from the part of a tree where the branching of two boughs 
formed an acute angle resembling the letter "V." The 
prongs were about five feet long. The junction-end was 
dressed to an upward point and finished with a bolt and 



MODES OF TRAVELING 



131 




OX-YOKE. 

LIZARD. 

NATURAL SLED BENTS. 



132 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

chain for hitching the oxen. Slabs were fastened across 
the body on which the load was placed. 

This primitive contraption behaved very well as long 
as the snow surface was smooth and oxen furnished motive 
power; but to stay aboard a lizard when roads were rough 
or haste was required would have taxed the agility of the 
western bronco-buster. Like a living thing it would, with- 
out warning, rear its head into the air and the next moment 
plunge its nose into the snow in a seemingly studied attempt 
to turn a somersault; or, with untiring energy, it would 
slew sidewise and unexpectedly and completely discharge 
its load of live or dead freight. 

The persistent effort of the lizard to travel on both sides 
of the road instead of in the middle was modified some- 
what by arranging at the V-point a cross-slab from which 
the chain traces were attached in two places instead of 
one. 

I often have heard my mother laughingly relate that 
one Christmas day, illness in the Lion household necessi- 
tated her presence to assist them. Uncle Peter came for 
her on his lizard. Anxiety for the sick family caused him 
to forget his usual caution in driving, and mother was 
dumped into the snow half a dozen times during the up- 
and-down-hill trip to the Lion home; but, being of the roly- 
poly build, she was not injured. 

Land-Lookers. 

More or less money was carried by the land-lookers 
for the purpose of making payments on land or for buying 
out a homesteader or squatter. At one time a prospector 
named Anderson stopped with us. He was on horseback 
and carried a carpet-satchel full of money. 

While going about with my father to locate land this 
valise was left at our house and we women-folk were at 
home alone. Jackson, Williams and the Funk brothers also 
left money in our keeping but the charge did not cause us 
any fear. The carpet-bag was kicked under the bed and 



MODES OF TRAVELING 133 

forgotten. Only for the changed present condition it 
would be superfluous to relate the circumstance. 

Jake and Ben Funk came to us while the river was at 
its high mark. They had crossed the country afoot carry- 
ing their money for land purchase in a hand-satchel. Our 
Boone river boatmen ferried the boys across after Jake 
carefully had chained the satchel to the boat-stays for 
security. 

The clothes of the Funk brothers needed immediate 
attention on account of the long journey through gumbo 
and sloughs, so they borrowed breeches from our boys and 
coats were worn in lieu of shirts while I expended my 
energy in the field of free mending and laundering. 

Boat trips were not frequent. Traveling by water was 
a precarious method and, in addition, usually meant some 
distance afoot to reach the destination. Sledding on the 
ice, however, was practiced extensively for long distances. 

Teamsters from Iowa City, Dubuque and Des Moines 
often brought from one to three travelers. This arrange- 
ment was made more for their company than convenience 
of transportation for all bad portions of the routes were 
gone over afoot both by passengers and drivers. 

Paymaster Without Guard. 

Supplies were sent over four hundred and fifty miles 
to Fort Clark — named in honor of General Clark — from 
St. Louis by water to Keokuk, la., thence to their destina- 
tion by wagons, as long as the fort was maintained — until 
1853. 

The army paymaster traveled from Jefferson Barracks, 
Mo,, headquarters, to the various frontier forts with the 
money for soldiers. There were less than one hundred 
members of the garrison at Fort Dodge and the infantry 
received but seven dollars per month; so, the amount of 
cash carried was not large — when viewed in the light of 
money standards today — especially when the trips were 



134 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

made according to the army regulation of payment, every 
two months. 

It was not always practicable, however, to observe the 
two months' rule even though it applied to military matters. 
The condition of weather and roads occasionally made it 
impossible to reach the forts except after some months 
delay. The army paymaster enroute to Fort Dodge stopped 
over night at our cabin. He made the trip without guard 
and did not seem in the least afraid. When he arrived, the 
saddle-bags with their burden of gold were removed from 
the horse's back and thrown on the floor as if they contained 
nothing more valuable than chips. Much more attention 
was shown to the horse than was bestowed on the money. 

The paymaster resumed his journey the following day, 
seemingly unconscious of the fact that within a few decades 
civilization would be developed to the point that would 
make impossible such a trip without large numbers of 
armed guards, studied secrecy, the wakefulness of impend- 
ing peril and the terror of being attacked. No man in our 
vicinity — to my knowledge — who carried money, ever was 
molested during the early days. 



CHAPTER XL 

Home and Field Occupations. 

One may, in detailing the events of history, cut from 
the record with the stroke of a pen a few years of colorless 
existence but pioneers were not so fortunate in disposing 
of time. The days were twenty-four hours long and no 
member of our household ever was idle for an extended 
time, except when asleep or sick. 

It may be supposed, and with reason, that the continual 
sameness and primitive methods of labor would occasion- 
ally grow monotonous — not to say tiresome — but I do not 
remember ever to have heard a word of complaint or cen- 
sure for our condition or surroundings. 

The periodical house-cleaning seasons which have been 
the despair of the twentieth century benedict caused us 
little concern. The loom and beds were knocked down and 
with spinning-wheels, bedding, barrels, benches, etc., were 
carried into the yard. The puncheon floor was flushed and 
scrubbed ; bedsteads and cordage scalded, bedding washed, 
ticks refilled with hay; everything replaced the same day 
— and presto! the trick was turned. The present-day delay 
of waiting for plumbers, painters or decorators we escaped. 
Owning little of the world's goods frequently may have its 
compensations. 

There were, along with our necessary duties, many 
recreations to balance the account. At all seasons there 
were gatherings galore for the purpose of improvement 
and such working-bees invariably ended with an evening 
dancing party or taff^y-pull. 

There were many fall and spring enterprises in which 
the whole family were interested and in which many of 
them participated. Bee-tree hunting sometimes was haz- 



136 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

ardous but yielded a bountiful supply of wild-honey. The 
picking of wild berries, plums and crab-apples was a pleas- 
ing pastime and added to the winter's store of food. The 
gathering of quantities of the various kinds of edible nuts 
furnished the motive for many Indian summer outings. 
The early spring work in our sugar-bush was anticipated 
with pleasure by old and young, and the grinding of cane 
for sorghum was classed as play instead of work. 

Children on mischief bent often armed themselves with 
squirt-guns made from pithless elder or sumac and finished 
with a perforated plug and a plunger. When filled with 
water and discharged unexpectedly into the face of a pass- 
ing victim the occasion was furnished for a scrimmage or a 
sprinting match. Such diversion, however, was not prac- 
ticed with the expectation of escaping the work in hand; 
it was an expression of exuberant spirits and overflowing 
energy. 

The Indian boys had nothing on our youngsters in the 
work of gorgeous personal decoration. Berry and nutting 
expeditions were favorable for experimentation in color 
schemes. The red and purple berries, the brown and black 
nut-hull stains were lavishly applied to the face, arms and 
legs in most grotesque designs. Walnut-hulling season was 
not entirely welcomed by the young men and young women, 
for handling the great juicy globes and stamping the pulpy 
hulls from the nuts rendered the bare hands and bare heels 
of the workers the shaded yellow, brown or black color 
which remained on the skin for weeks and indicated the 
extent of work done by the huller. 

Pounding off the hulls did not always exempt one from 
the coloring process for the spurting juice spattered the 
face and arms and gwe the appearance of large, round or 
irregular freckles. We did not think of protecting the 
hands with mittens; anyway, hand-covering would have 
lessened efficient, rapid work. Nor could we wait for hulls 
to dry before removing them. The shake roof sagged with 
its weight of drying nuts, but as those on the roof repre- 
sented but a small proportion of the full supply it was 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 137 

necessary to reduce the bulk as much as possible; this often 
was done before leaving the nut-patch. 

The walnut, butternut, hickory-nut and hazelnut were 
much larger than they are today. They were not gathered 
until ripe and the stock did not become stale and dry. 
Every one was consumed during the winter. 

Nature's Text-Book. 

The natural danger from animals, insects and reptiles 
which might be threatened in all field and forest trips devel- 
oped an acuteness of vision and hearing which rarely is 
acquired except through contact with the actual need for 
vigilance. Our text-book on nature was: The great out 
of doors, and the lessons were profitable and not at all 
unpleasant. 

Youngsters were warned to scrutinize with care the 
wood-pile, brush-heaps and grass tufts as well as the sunny 
knolls and marshy places; this we did before venturing on 
or among them. We were instructed to be alert, vigilant, 
active; to listen and look for the bee, birds or other field- 
game; to note the peculiar call or cry and observe the 
habits of small forest-varmints, as well as to heed the move- 
ments and warning hiss of the many kinds of snakes. 

Observation soon taught us to know from the location, 
material and construction of a nest, to what kind of wild 
fowl or ground-nesting bird it belonged. The tree-nesters' 
homes also were familiar to us. John Thomas could imi- 
tate almost any bird-call and was so in love with the 
friendly flyers he declared he saw and heard them in his 
sleep. 

We knew the sections which yielded the best strawber- 
ries, blackberries and gooseberries, and where hazelnuts 
grew in greatest profusion. We knew the trees from seed- 
ling to sapling and to the forest giant, and climbed the 
grapevine which decorated the branches. We gathered 
sumac-berries for coloring and brought home elderberries 
and spiles. We tramped through underbrush, and across 



138 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

clearings, and walked or hitched along on rail fences for 
long distances to avoid too close association with snakes. 

Prudent but Fearless. 

We were obediently cautious but absolutely unafraid. 
We imagined that human judgment and skill were supe- 
rior to animal sagacity. Perhaps the old apothegm: 
"Those who know nothing, fear nothing," might apply 
here, for the cry of the catamount or the night howl of 
the wolf bothered us not at all. An evening pastime for 
the children was to count the fiery eyes of these creatures 
as they gleamed upon us from the brush-thickets adjacent 
to the cabin. 

The fact that young stock frequently was destroyed by 
wolves did not — to my knowledge — raise the question of a 
child's danger from the same source. We had received 
instructions and the warning admonition from our parents 
and were expected to circumvent the creatures or avoid the 
danger. 

One thing, however, was in our favor. Wild animals 
or snakes are not aggressive unless disturbed, or attacked, 
or except when fear is shown or effort made to escape. If 
a forest varmint was sighted while the children were at play 
they did not scamper home screaming. On the contrary, 
the playing was continued and a close watch kept on the 
intruder. When the fastest runner could slip away unno- 
ticed he took to his heels and reported the circumstances to 
the hunters who usually succeeded in killing the creature. 

Pets. 

Seeking for nests of wild-fowl was an every day spring 
pastime. It was a great source of pleasure for pioneer 
children to be permitted to make pets of the fowl nestlings, 
cubs or fawns that were taken by the hunters and brought 
home captive. Goslings and ducklings were my especial 
favorites. 

Many early settlers had pet sand-hill cranes and some 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 139 

of these were none too agreeable with strangers. A child 
who showed fear of the long-legged, long-billed bird 
promptly was attacked or chased about the premises. 

Wild turkeys, prairie-chicks, quails and pheasants were 
the most beautiful and cunning little folk of field and for- 
est that one can imagine, but they were not susceptible to 
the blandishments of boys and girls. The eggs often were 
hatched at home and the baby chicks carefully handled but 
within a few weeks they invariably returned to their wild, 
free life. 

We captured several swans the second season after our 
arrival but they did not thrive in captivity or increase in 
numbers. 

Eagles were quite numerous during the early years but 
we did not seek their extermination. The boys, however, 
took a few shots at the embodiment of the national emblem, 
wholly from curiosity as a nature study. A half-grown 
bald eagle with a broken wing was brought home one day 
and given to me. "Baldy" was morose and not a tractable 
pet. He grew to an unusual size and his plumage of nat- 
ural colors was most beautifully marked. He was quarrel- 
some with domestic fowls and finally was killed in a fight 
with a turkey buzzard which one day invaded the premises. 

When our hunters or trappers killed a mother wolf they 
often brought home the coyote cubs. The pretty little wolf- 
lings usually were kept as pets until they yielded to the 
call of the wild and escaped, or until they were put to death 
for some depredation. 

Coons were so numerous and so easily domesticated 
that little effort was necessary to tame them. They were 
playful, cunning and very mischievous. While young they 
performed the most amusing tricks but as they grew older 
— although well fed — a periodical raid upon the pet-fowls' 
roosting-place was made in spite of all precautions. 

We did not attempt to tame beaver, otter or other water- 
animals. 

Very young deer-fawns or elk-calves are, perhaps, as 
beautiful and docile pets as can be found among wild crea- 



140 REMINISCENCES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

tures, but they frequently become offensively familiar and 
rough when older. 

We tamed and raised many fawns. For several years 
after game became scarce we kept a male and female deer. 
They were allowed to browse and pasture with the cattle 
but the stag horned the critters, and threw down the rail- 
fences with his antlers. Their presence seemed to stimu- 
late the breachy proclivities of the cattle; so, a paling inclo- 
sure of shakes about eight feet high was built for the deer. 
The creatures, however, were so restless that they finally 
were allowed to run at large. 

The periods for shedding antlers were times of seclu- 
sion. The stag did not return after one such vacation. 
The doe was more restless than ever. She wandered about 
and continuously called for her mate. One morning at 
daybreak Uncle Peter Lyon discovered "Polly" in his sta- 
ble-yard. Mistaking her for a wild animal, he shot her. 
When it was found that she bore our brand we were noti- 
fied, and Uncle Peter expressed great regret for the killing. 

Wild Fowl. 

There was such an abundance of wild fowl — geese, 
ducks, partridges and prairie chickens that in dressing 
them we saved only the breasts. Quail we did not kill; 
and if caught in the traps or deadfalls prepared for other 
game they were released. We did not consider rabbit, 
squirrel or opossum worth the expenditure of ammuni- 
tion. The pelts were valueless and there was a perennial 
supply of bigger and better game. 

Barnyard poultry, during the early years, was a disap- 
pearing quantity with us. If an old Dominick biddy suc- 
ceeded in bring off her brood the hawks, buzzards, weasles, 
minks, skunks and various other varmints made life un- 
comfortable for them as well as for their caretakers. 

Poultry production cost us absolutely nothing. The 
fowls roosted in the stable or trees; they wandered, and 
scratched, and foraged far and near; they hid their nests 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 141 

and brooded unattended and undisturbed by us. Domestic 
fowls that came to our yard to roost were claimed by us; 
any number that sought our neighbors' barnyards belonged 
to them. Eggs and poultry were unsalable, and therefore, 
claims of ownership were not considered or contested. 

The early part of the season our hunters supplied us 
with eggs for the table from the nests of wild turkeys and 
geese. After a fowl hunt father regaled himself with fried 
eggs cooked over the coals on the bright, steel fire shovel. 
Brooding water-fowl frequently were brought home to us 
where they hatched their young. Wings were clipped to 
discourage flight but in the autumn the natural desire to 
migrate possessed them, and unless killed for food or con- 
fined for the purpose of replenishing feather beds, they 
made their way southward despite the defective aerial ap- 
pendages. 

Flowers. 

It was unnecessary for us to cultivate a flower garden 
in the early '50's. The prairies were flecked with wild 
bright colored blossoms and the woods were redolent with 
perfume from budding-time until the frosts of fall. There 
were the crowfoot anemone, bloodroot, fly-flowers, pitcher 
plant, marsh marigold, bluebells, sweet Williams, wood- 
bine honeysuckle, columbines, flags, pond-lilies, spatter- 
dock, Indian turnip and ferns in luxuriant and varied pro- 
fusion; and the May flower, wild rose, grapevine, plum, 
cherry, crabapple, elderberry, thornapple and basswood 
trees in their season made the air heavy with fragrance and 
furnished a rich supply of nectar for the bees. 

Cattle not only grazed upon the succulent grasses but 
almost half the cured hay supply was composed of the 
white and purple-pink sweet Williams, while buttercups, 
sorrels, mints, lilies, bull or button-weed and daisies in 
many varieties helped to stock the manger. The prairie 
gum-weed or rosin plant furnished the family with chew- 
ing gum, and the "cud" was passed promiscuously among 
the children. 



142 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

When home flower gardens were cuhivated the holly- 
hock, marigold, saffron, "pretty-by-night" — four o'clock; 
and touch-me-not— so called because the ripe seed-pods 
burst open at the touch — were the general standby s. 

The buttonhole bouquet was not in vogue during the 
early years but many men, both young and old, wore flow- 
ers on their hats and the girls relieved the plainness of hair 
dressing with a seasonable blossom. 

It was said of the brake — a species of fern — that: 
"If you break the first brake, and kill the first snake, 

You'll do everything that you undertake." 

I suppose as long as flowers fleck the fields and daisies 
deck the dooryards young people will seek to know the 
personal preferences of their associates. The flowers will 
be named for one of the opposite sex, and the leaves, one 
by one, loosened with the monotoned chant — "He loves me, 
he loves me not." Young women seemed to accept the dic- 
tum of petal pulling as absolute, but the appearance of the 
young man in question with the assurance that the daisy 
had falsified the record of his heart, changed the outlook 
then, undoubtedly, as it does today. 

The same method was followed in the naming of seeded 
vegetables or fruit, and the following list was gone through: 
"One I love; two I love; three I love, they say; four I love 
with all my heart; five I cast away; six she loves; seven 
he loves; eight they both love; nine he comes; ten he tar- 
ries; eleven he courts; twelve he marries." When it was 
decided that one was to marry, it was natural to wish to 
know if the man were to be a "richman, poorman, beggar- 
man, thief, doctor, lawyer, merchant or chief," and this 
was decided by listing the buttons on one's dress. Finally, 
the choice of a color for the bride's wedding dress was im- 
portant, and was chosen from this list: "Married in white, 
you'll quarrel and fight; married in black, you'll wish 
yourself back; married in red, you'll wish yourself dead; 
married in green, you'll live like a queen; married in 
brown, you'll live in a town; married in blue, you'll always 
be true; married in grey, you never will stay; married in 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 143 

pink, you'll live with a slink." As ill luck seemed to fol- 
low the larger list of colors I exercised my personal prefer- 
ence and was married in white. 

Honey. 

I do not think through all the early years we ever were 
without wild-honey. The method of locating a bee-tree 
was to smear the smooth surface of a stump with honey and 
start a bee-bread smudge. The bees attracted by the odor 
would come to feast on the sweetness. Laden with honey 
they would circle upward above the trees and take a bee- 
line to their storehouse. The hunters followed the course 
of the burdened insects until the honeyed habitation was 
located. 

The bees were smoked from their shelter with sulphur, 
the tree chopped down and the honey brought home. We 
considered a few bee-stings of little more consequence than 
mosquito bites. Bee-trees often were located and marked 
in summer. Later, when the swarm was dormant, the trees 
were cut and carted away. The industrious insects then 
could work for us at the home apiary. 

Sections of hollow logs were provided for their store- 
house and we allowed the bees to design their own interior 
decoration. "Survival of the fittest" was our bee manual, 
and if a swarm died we procured another from the woods. 

Talman Wiltsey was the pioneer breeder of bees. He 
supplied honey to the settlers and swarms to anyone who 
wished to invest in bee-stock. He did not isolate his bees, 
and unfortunately, lost a horse as a result of bee-stings. 

The animal had strayed into the bee-yard to graze, and 
upset a bee-hive. The irate swarm attacked the horse. 
Seeking to escape, another hive was overturned. The fran- 
tic beast plunged, kicked, rolled and finally ran groaning 
to the stable. A quilt was thrown over him and the bees 
crushed and scraped off. The whisky antidote immediately 
was administered but the colt's eyes and nostrils soon were 
closed with the swelling. The tender, thinly haired parts 



144 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

of the body were covered with knots of formic poisoning. 
The animal suffered several hours before death relieved 
him. 

Mr. Wiltsey remained in the work of bee-culture until 
his death. 

Jerking Venison. 

Our method of jerking venison was a strictly up-to-date 
one. An excavation about six feet square and eighteen 
inches deep was prepared. Fagots were piled into the hole 
and fired. The wood was replenished as it burned down, 
and when the pit was nearly full of live coals a criss-cross 
rack of saplings was placed above the hot bed. The ends 
of the frame rested on solid ground and the lattice-work 
was covered with raw deer meat. 

The intense heat seared and partly cooked the venison, 
which preserved it during the summer season. Hunks of 
ham sometimes fell through the frame-openings and were 
consumed. Occasionally the poles became ignited and 
unless the fire were discovered immediately the whole con- 
signment was dropped upon the coals. A few pieces of 
the meat, perhaps, could be raked out before it was 
scorched seriously but it was very easy to loose all of it. 

The smell of curing flesh always attracted the wolves, 
but while the fire was brilliant they did not attempt to ap- 
propriate the meat supply. They were, however, at such 
times more venturesome in prowling about, and the season 
for jerking venison was a most auspicious one for taking 
wolfskins. 

A part of the summer's supply of meat was subjected 
to the slower process of smoking and a portion to the still 
slower process of drying. 

Pigs. 

A pair of small pigs was purchased as we passed 
through Des Moines. They became great pets before we 
reached our destination for they constantly were carried 
in the arms of some of the children during the remainder 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 



145 




146 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

of the journey. A pole pen, lean-to fashion, was arranged 
beside the cabin door, for pig comfort, but often through- 
out the winter the pigs were allowed to sleep inside the 
house. 

The following spring we purchased an old sow. She 
possessed a frame that easily could have carried six hun- 
dred pounds of flesh although perhaps two hundred and 
fifty pounds was her actual weight. A strong rail pen was 
built for her use until she became wonted to the place. The 
bodily activity and lusty lung exercise of Mrs. Porker were 
worthy a study in wild life. She had been removed from 
her porcine associates and deprived of her liberty; so, nat- 
urally, was lonesome and resentful. The enclosure was 
surrounded by youthful admirers and sympathizers but 
that did not in the least mollify her. She would charge 
around the pen with a Woof! Woof! Woof! which would 
send us scurrying away from the immediate vicinity. She 
then would rear on her hind legs, place her fore feet on 
the top rail of the pen and let out a squeal that was a fair 
and full substitute for the steam-whistle of today; how- 
ever, as the nerves of pioneers were not frayed at both 
edges we did not mind the noisy disturbance. 

Several extra tiers of rails were placed upon the pig- 
pen as security against escape, but the second morning after 
her arrival the enclosure was empty. With dogs and guns 
the men folk started in pursuit of the runaway. Mrs. Hog 
was overhauled two or three miles from home making good 
time on the return trip to Des Moines; but her journey had 
not been without peril. She had been attacked by a she- 
wolf and three half-grown cubs, the dead bodies of which 
were discovered along the trail she had taken. 

We called this hog the rail-sealer. She literally would 
walk up the side of a ten rail pen and go over the top with- 
out misplacing a single tier; but we outgeneraled her by 
drawing the rails to a cone-shape and leaving; but a small 
opening at the apex. The children climbed the pen corners 
as they did the cabin corners; and we fed the hog from the 
top or poked feed through the cracks between rails. 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 147 

The old sow finally grew accustomed to our ministra- 
tions and became tractable if not friendly. One morning 
she presented us with fourteen fine, healthy pigs whereupon 
she was released from captivity. She raised every one of 
the pigs and they succeeded in raising everything which 
came in contact with their long and industrious noses. 

Deer meat and wild-fowl flesh was plentiful but it was 
necessary for us to raise hogs to supply shortening and the 
grease-gravy so essential in dressing corn dodger. Woods- 
pastured hog-flesh was not so firm and white as the corn fed 
product and the lard would liquify with the application of 
very little heat. We did not kill one pig at a time and thus 
secure fresh meat at all seasons. Instead we made a reg- 
ular killing and butchered the year's supply at one time — 
unless we miscalculated our needs. Butchering-bees were 
as popular in pioneer times as log-rollin's or cabin-raisin's. 

My recollection of our domestic critters during the 
early years is: they either were bawlers, blatters or squeal- 
ers. If we, however, considered the vociferous agitation at 
all, we thought it a chronic state of contrariness and were 
not aware that company, or food of the proper kind or 
quantity, would have satisfied them and quieted their cries. 

For several years after our arrival pork, as a commer- 
cial product, was valueless; any surplus supply was dis- 
tributed among the neighbors. For many years hog meat 
brought no more than $2.50 per hundred after being hauled 
to Iowa City, Dubuque or Des Moines. 

Prairie Fires. 

We were not afraid of Indians or wild beasts. High 
water and bad weather were natural difficulties to be 
worked through with patience and caution. A part of the 
season, however, we were greatly alarmed by the fire men- 
ace. The prairie grass grew so luxuriantly and the thickets 
of underbrush were so dense that during the fall, the possi- 
bility of prairie-fires gave us constant concern. We did 
not neglect the precaution of plowing and back-firing about 
the premises no matter what else may have been neglected. 



14S REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Prairie-fires were magnificent sights. At times they 
traveled far faster than a horse ; and often spelled destruc- 
tion to property and death to unfortunate settlers. Sweep- 
ing with the wind, great tufts of burning grass were hurled 
rods ahead of the moving body of the fire. Roads did not 
retard, and creeks did not prevent a fire's progress in dry 
weather. The red reflection on the sky together with a high 
wind were signals for neighbors to hasten to the assistance 
of settlers in the danger zone. 

Many times fire-fighters returned from the work with 
faces and hands blistered. Father's face once was so in- 
flamed from fire rescure work that for days we feared he 
would lose his sight. The hair of Uncle Peter Lyon was 
closely singed in a fire fight east of town. His clothing 
became ignited and but for the assistance from other work- 
ers he doubtless would have been burned to death. 

A man named Mills and his little son perished in a 
prairie fire north of Homer, in 1851; the horse being un- 
able to carry them to safety. The following season Lew 
Wellington and family while on the way to our settlement 
were burned to death on the prairie in the southeast part 
of the county. The charred remains of wagon, oxen and a 
family of six persons were found when search was made; 
and but for the fact that we were expecting their arrival, 
their identity could not have been established. Later in 
the fall of 1852, two hunters, Jim Phipps and Sam Judy, 
were burned to death on the prairie west of Mud lake. 

Fire dangers were not greatly lessened for a long time; 
as late as 1860 a man named Swearingen with his family 
of five who were emigrating from the East in a covered 
wagon, were overtaken by a prairie-fire south of Hamilton 
county and all perished in the flames. 

Snakes. 

All pioneers had the usual disquieting experiences with 
snakes. Tliere were snake sections infested with rattlers, 
blue racers, bull and blacksnakes and large numbers of the 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 149 

smaller garden varieties; but the venom of none of them 
except the rattlesnake was considered to be dangerous. 

The members of our family who were habitual hunters 
had the periodical spring encounter with schools of snakes. 
The infested districts were made the objective point for 
snake hunts, and literally speaking, thousands of them were 
killed by our men-folk during the early years. 

The unusually prolific snake grounds hereabout were 
located on the flat and south exposure of the hill opposite 
the mill site and a few miles north of town at a sandy, open 
space on the bank of the White-Fox creek. Rock crevices 
were natural hiding places; the Briggs' river bank fur- 
nished many sunny ledges for their spring recreation; like- 
wise, furrows that had been plowed for trails or paths to 
the neighbors' cabins and the late fall plowing which had 
been done for fire protection — these were sunning places 
and were the scenes of many successful snake hunts. Dur- 
ing the early part of May, on warm, sunny days, snakes 
by the hundreds could be found warming up from the win- 
ter's rest. 

The most auspicious period for snake killing was when 
they were emerging from winter quarters. This time also 
was attended with less danger to the hunter as the reptiles 
were too stiff to strike or to escape. Almost as effective and 
a less dangerous method was to locate the nests and destroy 
the eggs. 

The best weapon with which to attack a snake was a 
light, tough but not too stiff" stick. One well aimed blow 
was quite sufficient. The same skill, however, in delivering 
a fatal blow to a snake was as necessary as good marksman- 
ship in hunting. The household snake implement was a 
hoe with a flatly turned eye, which brought the blade on a 
straight line with the handle. The strike was made as with 
a spear and Mr. Snake usually was cut in two. When a 
snake was finished his tail did not live until sundown as 
was popularly believed. 



150 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Surrounded by Rattlesnakes. 

Roll reported that on the White-Fox snake grounds he 
had stood at a given point and counted twenty-five rattle- 
snakes in a semi-dormant state within a three rod radius. 
He never was snake-bitten but has been made stomach-sick 
from the nauseating odor which is given off from such 
schools of reptiles. 

Two young brothers frequently were bitten by snakes 
while grubbing and clearing. At such times the wound was 
sucked to extract the poison, and as an added measure of 
precaution, a slippery-elm or rattlesnake-plantain poultice 
immediately was applied. A "horn" of spirits, an ash- 
bark brew or a few drops of hartshorn were administered if 
the patient's condition seemed to require it. 

Soon after his arrival one of Joe Peabody's sons, while 
grubbing, was bitten by a rattler. The young man was 
clearing the refuse from the root of a stump to facilitate 
his work. Simultaneously with the warning rattle the 
youth was struck on the back of the hand. The household 
remedies were applied but they were unavailing. His arm 
swelled to a great size and turned purple to the shoulder. 
This acute condition subsided and recurred periodically 
and the patient was taken to Des Moines for medical treat- 
ment. Joe Jr. recovered but his right arm was partially 
paralyzed. 

Jotham Lyon, also, was dangerously ill from the effect 
of a rattlesnake bite. He suffered and was unable to work 
for many weeks. The whisky antidote was resorted to in 
his case, possibly with the idea that: "if a little is good, a 
good deal is better." Rye and bourbon were administered 
early and often to the half-unconscious patient. His con- 
dition did not immediately improve so the interval between 
doses was shortened and the quantity of liquor increased. 
Joth did not die from the snake-bite or the remedy, but he 
was incapacitated for the summer's work. 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 151 

Size of Snakes. 

Innumerable snakes killed by our men-folk were six 
and eight feet in length. Frequently a big bullsnake would 
seek to make the acquaintance of the family by crawling 
into the cabin; but the curiosity seekers always became 
victims of the well aimed blows of mother or the children 
armed with the hoe or broomstick. Two of our dogs were 
experts as snake catchers and would locate an ophidian 
weherever he might be concealed about the premises. The 
dogs were permitted the freedom of the cabin before bed- 
time, during the snake running season, so they might nose 
out a serpent and make it safe for the family to sleep. 

Dogs and cattle often were bitten by snakes but we lost 
no critters from that cause. The rattles from the tails of 
dead snakes were strung on cords as playthings for the 
younger children. They were, likewise, worn as pendant 
decorations on leathern belts and collars of the youthful 
nimrods who had taken them. 

Mike McGonigal, one of our bachelor helpers, was 
desperately afraid of snakes. The proximity of reptiles 
made him almost as hysterically helpless as a woman. 
This predisposition induced his fellow-workers to perpe- 
trate many a snaky joke on him. A large bullsnake was 
killed one day and placed across the narrow brush-lined 
pathway. All the boys were wise to the joke except Mac. 
They started for home single file — one of the boys ahead 
of the victim. When the place was reached the leader 
yelled: "SNAKES!" and leaped over the dead reptile. 
The boys in the rear also yelled. Mac screamed with 
fright and fell almost in a fit across the dead snake. The 
boys discontinued their jokes after this incident. 

It often has been reported that pioneers ate snake meat 
either from curiosity or necessity. We, at least, were not 
so curious and I do not think our neighbors were. We did 
not eat eels, turtles, squirrel, rabbit, opossum or any of 
the trapped animals. Venison, wild-fowl and fish fur- 
nished our table. The scarcity of big game did not compel 
us to experiment with small fry. 



152 REMINISCENCES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Cow Herding and Hunting. 

One of the daily, early spring tasks which devolved 
upon the children was the herding of milch-cows and nurs- 
ing ewes away from the rampion and wild parsnip patches. 

Ramps and parsnips made an earlier and ranker 
growth than the other pasturage. The former — with the 
onion flavor — rendered the milk supply unfit for use and 
the latter poisoned the critters, especially the sheep. Later 
in the season other vegetation was preferred by the herd, 
and the cows then were permitted to wander at will through 
the thickets and sloughs. We gained little, however, from 
the relief of herding. Nearly every night one or two of 
the cattle did not come home and the "Cm boss, c'm boss," 
often brought no response. 

Someone, perhaps two or three children then were dele- 
gated to hunt the delinquents. When they were not far 
away the bell or "ball" of the cow served to guide us. The 
lost ones frequently were found stuck in the mud some- 
where on the town site. Especially was this true after the 
frost had gone out or flood-waters receded. The flat east 
of Superior street and south from Division to Ohio streets 
was a splendid miring-place. This location was covered 
with water during the season's freshets until the Chicago 
and Northwestern railway company constructed the track- 
grade along the river. 

Old settlers seem to think that more water was dis- 
charged during the early floods than at the present time. 
Dredging, draining and building obstructions along the 
river's banks changes the aspect rather than the reality. 
Then, we saw the waters spread out and pour over the sur- 
faces without hindrance. We viewed a sea on all sides and 
imagined each recurring flood unparalleled. It has been 
reported that a boat was used to land at the Webster City 
House, at Bank and Seneca streets, the wet season of 1858, 
but I do not remember that condition or incident. 

All summer's heat did not dry out these submerged 
lowlands and we knew about where we would find "stuck" 



HOME AND FIELD OCCUPATIONS 15?> 

COWS. When a mired victim was located we blew three 
blasts on our best shrill-voiced willow-wood whistle. When 
an answer was received from home we awaited the arrival 
of help. If we received no answer a trip home was neces- 
sary to procure assistance. 

Pulling Cows From Mud. 

When all was in readiness a man waded in and attached 
a rope or log-chain about the critter's horns — an effective 
hitching-place for the rescue line. A mooley cow was a lia- 
bility in a slough-hole but she was an asset in her inability 
to horn down rail fences. 

The heads of flocks and herds were not closely con- 
fined for a long time. A bull, a boar or a ram might be 
encountered at almost any time or place. Free exercise 
reduced their pugnacious proclivities somewhat, but their 
company was not courted by unprotected women or chil- 
dren. We were discreetly shy of their presence except 
when close to sheds, fences or trees. One of our bulls was 
shot after he several times had chased and treed the boys. 
No one thought of dehorning a critter at that time although 
horns often were broken or crumpled by fighting or by toss- 
ing fences. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Accidents, Births, Weddings, Deaths, 

A strange fatality seemed to pursue our young neigh- 
bor Phil Jenkins. His presence invariably precipitated an 
episode either of an amusing or serious nature. The two 
years of his life with us was a continuous round of inci- 
dents and accidents. If an adventure were related, this 
was the first question: "Was Phil there?" 

The young man was courageous and venturesome to 
foolhardiness; but he was the life of a crowd and his splen- 
did spirit of helpfulness made his presence welcome and 
desirable, although a company breathed easier as evening 
drew near if nothing of unusual import had happened to 
Phil. 

The young man was present at one of the early logging- 
bees, and the oxen were a bit perverse in their usual work 
of even-pulling. Phil, in the attempt to quiet and guide 
them sprang upon the back of one of the animals. The 
beast was unaccustomed to a mount and was "skeered," 
which was an occasion for unusual operations. 

The oxen were off, in a flash, for a wild run through 
the thicket. Fearing the youth might be dashed against a 
tree and killed the other workers followed the fleeing cat- 
tle. Over the ridge, down the hillside, across the clearing 
below the mill site plunged the critters. The pursuers 
noted that Phil was retaining his place on the back of the 
beast, but the Iowa Tam-0-Shanter's senses whirled as he 
realized they were nearing the river which was swollen by 
the autumn rains. He feared to let go; so, he frantically 
hung on. A moment of darkness. The oxen made a flying 
leap into the water and, for a moment, were entirely sub- 
merged. Phil loosened his hold, rose to the surface and 
swam to the bank where he soon was located by his fellow- 
workers. 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 155 

The frightened ox, when the cause of the excitement 
was removed, became as tractable as ever and with his 
yokefellow began browsing on the opposite side of the 
stream. The wet and shivering young man, undaunted by 
his experience, swam across the river and headed the ani- 
mals toward home but he did not attempt to ride. He was 
badly bunged-up but not seriously injured. 

The winter following this episode Phil was engaged in 
snaking home a supply of wood from the logging-camp. 
On a downward slide the chain slipped and in rearranging 
the snub the slack in the log chain looped itself about his 
foot. Before the oxen could be stopped the victim had been 
dragged some distance, 

Phil's cries of distress soon brought assistance and he 
at once was taken home. It was found, when the cowhide 
boot was cut away, that the bones of the foot were crushed 
badly, the flesh mangled and the member bleeding pro- 
fusely. 

A consultation was held. His parents decided that it 
would be necessary to sacrifice the front part of the foot. 
A strong band was tied in front of the heel and across the 
instep marking the line for amputation, and a stick was 
twisted and knotted in the band to arrest the flow of blood. 

Surgical Operation. 

A wood-chopper was chosen for the work who was 
known to be so accurate with an ax that a clean stroke at 
exactly the line indicated would result. My brother. Jack 
Brewer, was chosen for the work. It was a terrible ordeal 
for both surgeon and patient. It was, however, the best 
means at hand, and a real pioneer never was known to 
shirk a responsibility. 

The stump of the foot immediately was thrust into a 
puff^ball — a fungus growth which was said to possess prop- 
erties for coagulating and reducing the flow of blood. 
Granny Peabody acted as nurse for several days. The foot 



156 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

healed nicely and no complications resulted from this first 
surgical operation in our community. 

The foregoing are but two of the many mishaps that 
befell Phil Jenkins. 

His fatal encounter with the community boar was sorely 
regretted but it was thought to be the inevitable outcome 
which might have been postponed but could not have been 
escaped. 

Boar Fight. 

In the fall of 1852 a number of boys and girls had 
planned an afternoon nutting expedition. We, accord- 
ingly, repaired to the hickory grove south of town on what 
now is Edgewood Farm. The boys climbed the trees and 
clubbed off the nuts. They then decided to skirmish 
through the adjoining thickets for game. The girls were 
to collect and hull the nuts during their absence. Phil Jen- 
kins, whose crippled foot prevented his joining the chase, 
remained with us. 

We were busily engaged in the work when the noisy 
approach of an animal through the bushes attracted our 
attention. Phil seized his rifle, anticipating the pleasure 
of bringing down a deer without pursuing him; but instead 
of a deer Slab-Sides the boar, having been disturbed by the 
hunters plunged through the bushes into the nut-grove clear- 
ing. The young man threw down his gun when the hog 
appeared and we girls shouted with laughter at his dis- 
comfiture. 

He, however, must have understood porcine propensi- 
ties better than did we, for, as the hog halted a moment at 
the clearing's edge Phil hurriedly said to us: "You girls 
take to the timber!" He snatched up his firearm, but with 
a rush, a snort, and a cracking of his tusks the boar was 
close upon him before he could prime and fire. 

Phil sprang behind a tree, drew his bowie-knife and 
gave battle. It was dodge and thrust with a vengeance, 
and soon the blood was flowing freely from the hog's many 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 157 

wounds. The tree furnished the man shelter from the mur- 
derous charges of the boar, and to the terrified onlookers 
it seemed the circling combatants must fall with fatigue. 

Several of the girls ran into the wood screaming to 
attract the attention of the hunters. The others procured 
clubs and waited for whatever emergency might arise. 

Phil stumbled and went to his knees but quickly recov- 
ered his equilibrium. At his misstep Liza Perkins and I 
ran forward thinking we might help to beat off the brute, 
but our protector's "Get out o' here!" was so authoritative 
we immediately retired. 

The young man would have tired out the assailant had 
it not been for his crippled foot. He had succeeded in 
dodging the onslaughts and had inflicted wounds with his 
knife which reduced the strength of the maddened boar. 

A signal shot from the woods indicated that the hunting 
party had heard the cries of the girls, but with the assur- 
ance that relief was near, disaster approached. 

Phil made another misstep and was knocked to the 
ground. The beast's tusks tore through the flesh a dozen 
times before we could reach his side; but with a supreme 
effort Phil thrust his bowie-knife into the belly of the boar 
— ripped him open — and with an expiring breath the 
brute's entrails gushed over the prostrate form of our pro- 
tector. 

Phil's jugular vein had been pierced by the boar's tusks 
and he lived but a few moments. His life was nearly spent 
when the returning hunters arrived. His last words were: 
"Well, girls, I've had my last mix-up, but I wish it had 
been a wild animal instead of a common hog." 

The body was carried to our home on a litter which 
the boys improvised by pinning their coats together with 
thorns and fastening them to hand-poles. The interment 
was made on the hill south of town. 

Crushed by a Log; Near Drowning. 

Luther Schultz was killed in the late fall work of log- 
rolling in 1850. 



158 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

An immense walnut cut was being raised to the top of 
the pile. The handspike which the young man was manipu- 
lating slipped and the force of his body against the pole 
threw him forward. The log, loosened at his end, escaped 
the pinch of the other workmen. It crashed downward, 
caught the youth between the timbers and crushed his skull. 

He was buried across the river northeast of the Chase 
mill site. 

Luther Schultz had, during the summer season, saved 
his twelve year old sister Dorcas from death by drowning. 

The Schultz family — six boys and five girls — were 
veritable human ducks. They had lived on the bank of the 
Wabash river in Indiana and from infancy waded, paddled 
and splashed daily. All the stunts of the swimmer were 
to them familiar. They seemed quite as much at home in 
high water as in low and preferred breasting a strong cur- 
rent instead of indolently stroking their way on a placid 
surface. 

The young children of a family often accompanied the 
men-folk to their work in wood or field. A tree had been 
cut upon the river's bank. In order to save trimming and 
clearing it had been felled into the stream. The children 
raced to the spot. Such an opportunity was meant to be 
improved. They shinned forward upon the tree-trunk and 
sought convenient limbs for teetering above the water. 

Dorcas, more venturesome than the others, doffed her 
outer garment and made her way out upon a slender branch 
to the last fork capable of bearing her weight. She stood 
erect, a foot on either bough, and to her father on shore 
shouted: "Look , Pap, watch me dive!" 

The workers turned to see the daring miss put in motion 
the limb on which she stood. At the proper rebound her 
supple form shot through the air and plunged downward 
into the river. 

The child, however, either had miscalculated the depth 
of water or the height of her springing start. Her head 
struck the bottom of the river and the impact partly stunned 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 159 

her. She rose to the surface but could not call for help, 
and feebly motioned to the men on the bank. 

Luther, fully dressed, plunged into the stream and 
headed for his drifting sister. She sank the second time 
when almost within the brother's grasp. Instantly he dove 
and swept his arms about the drowning girl. He swam to 
shallow water and carried her to safety. 

She was brought to our house. The scalp-wound was 
stitched and bandaged by my mother, and within a few 
days Miss Dorcas was fully recovered. The nearly fatal 
experience did not lessen her love for the water. Before 
she was steady on her feet after the accident she was back 
in her aquatic element regardless of the admonitions of her 
more timid playmates. 

River Work. 

It is somewhat remarkable that no casualty befell our 
men-folk in their work on the river and in the seemingly 
bottomless sloughs which abounded in every direction. 
Our boys were not expert swimmers, but when immigration 
began in earnest two or more of them were continually 
busy in the work of water transportation, and during the 
spring freshets the work was extremely dangerous. Almost 
any time of day a loud "Ho-o-o-oh" might be heard, which 
was the signal for the ferryman. 

The vehicle of transportation — a log canoe or raft, 
sometimes two canoes hitched together — was towed or 
poled up stream to a bend on the opposite side of the river 
from the waiting pilgrims. The current of the water was 
deflected by the jutting curve of the cape to a general cross- 
wise direction toward the hoped-for landing place. 

The boatman took his position at the rude steering appa- 
ratus which poorly served to guide the craft and avoid 
being swung into the swift main channel of the river. If 
the operator miscalculated the distance, swiftness of cur- 
rent or possible undertow he missed his harbor and landed 
in a swamp or bayou perhaps a mile or more down stream, 



160 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

in which case the craft was towed back to the starting place 
and relaunched. 

When the goods or passengers were aboard, a similar 
method of manipulation brought them across — providing 
they were fortunate enough to escape being dumped into 
the river. The simpleton who rocks the boat is a develop- 
ment of our later days. A measure of skill was required 
to keep a canoe right side up, and not a false or foolish 
motion was permitted. Warning to that effect was given 
when any one embarked and full confidence was accorded 
the ferryman. 

A present-day transportation company would require 
for station or harbor purposes two or three miles of the 
water-front if relatively as much land were used for load- 
ing and unloading goods as was utilized by the pioneers 
in river work. 

Drowning. 

Other families were less fortunate than ours on the wa- 
terways. I believe the earliest drowning was that of Fred 
Maine. He had cut a hole in the ice for the purpose of 
spearing fish for Christmas dinner, 1851, Leaving home 
in the forenoon he expected to return soon although the 
delay did not cause anxiety for several hours. Search was 
made and the spearing-hole located at about the Zublin 
ice-field north of town. The ice-pick and spear were lying 
beside the hole and the ax on the river's bottom. No trace 
of Fred could be found and his body was never recovered. 

Another early drowning was that of John Garmoe. The 
unfortunate young man was a brother of Isaac Garmoe 
who later located in the western part of the county. All 
streams at that early time were normally bank full; but the 
casualty did not occur at flood-water season, and, therefore, 
seemed particularly deplorable. The young man had 
helped to tow and canoe the family belongings across 
Skunk creek when, without noticeable warning, on his re- 
turn swimming trip he sank out of sight and did not rise 
to the surface. 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 161 

Lost. 

The summer after our arrival my mother sent me alone 
to Uncle Billy Stanley's, about three-quarters of a mile dis- 
tant, to procure roasting ears for dinner. I was to cross 
the river, keep to the right a short distance, turn half again 
to the left guided by trees and stumps to my destination. 

I proceeded to the river's bank where two logs had been 
felled — one on either side — the tops interlacing in mid- 
stream. The branches partly had been trimmed to permit 
easy passage over the foot-logs. 

I crossed the river and observed the various directions 
of the trails of hunters and wood-choppers and the paths 
that led to the cabins of our neighbors. My mother, evi- 
dently having in mind but one path, had told me to turn 
to the right and after reaching a big stump to turn half 
way in another direction and follow the path past an im- 
mense maple tree. 

I fared forth on a trail that led through a forest of 
sumac-bushes. I wish I could describe the luxuriant growth 
of these "shumakes." The stunted, dusty, bare-limbed 
specimens of today give no hint of their magnificence. 
The body-stalks were clean and bright and the eye could 
not penetrate the dense and perfect canopy of leaves. 1 
emerged fromi this beautiful surrounding into a maze of 
many paths. The hazel-bushes had been trampled to make 
travel possible and literally, a bird could not fly through 
the underbrush and briar-thickets. 

I trudged along some distance but did not locate the 
big stump marker. I removed my sunbonnet that I might 
better survey the surroundings. Was I lost? No, but 
Uncle Billy's cabin surely was. 

I retraced my steps to the foot-logs. I carefully viewed 
the various paths and chose another which gave promise of 
being the right one. 

I pursued the lonely way for a long time with no better 
results and once more I returned to the river's edge and 
made a fresh start. This time I struck the wood-choppers' 



162 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

trail and there were many stumps and many maples and 
I knew that I had again gone wrong. 

I slowly returned riverward ; and the tales of lost hunt- 
ers were revolved in my mind, I was not frightened, how- 
ever, and had no intention of abandoning the trip, for I 
knew that a day long enough and leg-muscles strong enough 
finally would bring me to my destination. When I reached 
the river's brink for the third start, I faced about, chose 
another path, and this time having guessed right I reached 
Uncle Billy's in safety. 

The midday menu was minus the roasting-ears but they 
were relished quite as well for supper. I do not recall that 
I was questioned about the delay, or that anxiety was 
expressed at my unusually long absence. I had accom- 
plished the mission. To be able to "make a shift" for any 
contingency was expected of both young and old. 

The Way to Homer. 

Soon after we permanently were located at Newcastle, 
Roll was instructed to go to the supply-station at Homer 
to procure coffee and ammunition. He was familiar only 
with the point of timber at the Johnny Frank place near 
home. 

He was told to travel westward to a raise of land, south 
to a point of timber, west through a big slough, south and 
west and south again until the youth was excusable if he 
lost his bearings. He, however, afoot and alone, obedi- 
ently started through the tall timber with the spirit of the 
adventurer to try anything once. 

He proceeded to the third lap of the pedestrian per- 
formance when, during his progress through the big slough 
he became hopelessly confused in direction. He thought of 
all the things he had heard for marking the directions of 
the compass and for locating one's self when lost; for 
instance, the field flowers turning their faces toward the 
sun, the rosin-weed leaves pointing their edges north and 
south and the parallel seams in boulders lining in the same 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 163 

direction. He found upon examination that the nodding, 
golden heads of the field-daisies were turned in various 
directions; the nigger-heads — few in number — were 
seamed in opposite directions; the compass-plant also 
failed him; and the axils of artichoke-stalks opened possi- 
bilities for still greater confusion. He, therefore, made 
his way through the slough to the nearest fringe of timber 
and climbed the tallest tree to take observation. 

He scanned the horizon from his leafy perch until he 
located in the distance the familiar wood near his home. 
This definite knowledge relieved his agitation. He re- 
mained in the observatory for some time studying the 
topography of the outlying districts. 

He finally shinned down the tree-trunk and made a bee- 
line for home instead of Homer. Having spent so much 
time in locating landmarks he decided to make a fresh 
start with the morrow's sunrise. This he did with no addi- 
tional instruction and the trip was made without delay or 
incident. 

Roll's diligent study and observation along these lines 
made him proficient in directing prospectors; and through 
his many years of experience on the trackless prairies 
while hunting, trapping and traveling, he never again was 
confused in direction or location. 

Another account of a brother losing his way is recorded 
elsewhere. 

An Unusual Ceremony. 

It was over a year after the arrival of the Schultz fam- 
ily that an unusual wedding, minus the guests and enter- 
tainment, occurred. 

The consent of Mam and Pap Schultz had been gained 
by Moses Billings before they left Indiana, that when their 
daughter Matilda was eighteen years of age she should be 
permitted to marry him. The parents thought delay and 
distance might change the plans of the young couple but 
they were mistaken. 



164 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The season of 1851 was a repetition of rains — or down- 
pours — each one seemingly more copious than the one 
before it. On the little patch of planet represented by our 
settlement the expanse of water seemed greatly to exceed 
the extent of land and the mud was increased proportion- 
ately in depth. 

The inhospitable attitude of nature did not deter nor 
defer the journey of Moses to the land of promise. The 
young man covered every rod of the way from Iowa City 
on foot — if swimming the streams may be called traveling 
on foot. In a bedraggled condition but with a hopeful 
heart Billings arrived at the Schultz cabin and asked the 
parents of "Tilly" to redeem their promise. 

They were as good as their word and signified their 
willingness for the wedding to take place; but how was 
the ceremony to be performed? An ocean of water rolled 
between the couple and Elder Woods. Marital happiness 
was almost within their grasp but it was dangerously risky 
to undertake crossing the river in a dugout. 

Young Billings, from the bank opposite the mill site, 
shouted to the boatman on our side of the river. He ex- 
plained the situation and requested that the young minister 
be brought across to officiate at the wedding. The situation 
was explained to the preacher. 

Elder Woods was a good man. His life had been 
blameless and he was not afraid to die but he flatly refused 
to tempt fate or to fly in the face of providence by making 
the precarious trip in a canoe. He, however, accompanied 
father to the bank opposite the impatient young man and 
stated his objections. 

Moses sat down among the willows to think over his 
defeat. Silence reigned and the heavens wept profusely. 
Father and Woods were preparing to return home when 
a ioyous shout arrested their attention. The resourceful 
Billings, who had covered the hundreds of miles of dis- 
tance to gain the right to call a young; girl his wife, was 
not to be turned from his purpose. He proposed that he 
bring his intended to the vantage ground then occupied by 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 165 

him and requested that Elder Woods ask the essential ques- 
tions from the opposite bank. 

The arrangement was approved by the minister. The 
young lady was led to the water's edge and the numerous 
members of her family arranged themselves beside and 
behind the contracting couple. The questions and re- 
sponses were shouted across the watery expanse and 
Matilda Schultz was declared to be the wife of Moses 
Billings. 

When the rains had ceased and the waters receded the 
young pair began the return trip to Indiana. 

Recalling this romantic incident I must also state that 
I do not know what documents were necessary for the sat- 
isfaction of legal demands, or whether any papers were 
essential under the circumstances. The unusual occurrence 
and the apparently happy termination of the episode 
crowded out any questioning or remembrance of the whys 
and wherefores from my mind. 

Other early weddings included the names of Stanley- 
Drought, already recorded; Lyon-Holmes; Prime-Stanley; 
Haviland-Kent; Wheeler-Snyder, and Frakes-Brewer. 

Sill-Brassfieid Wedding Trip. 

The marriage of Martha Sill and George Brassfield 
does not hold first place in pioneer records, but the pre- 
nuptial trip was a long and perilous one. The couple 
eloped soon after the removal of Major Brassfield's family 
to Liberty, Wright county. 

There had been an unusually "wet spell." The river 
was out of its banks and the day set for the departure prom- 
ised to be a dismal one. The prospective bride spent the; 
night with the Brassfield girls as she had done many times 
before. She arose early and, supposedly, departed for her 
home. The groom-to-be, still earlier, had declared his 
intention of setting out on a hunting trip. 

The young couple repaired to the meeting-place. The 
vehicle of transportation — a log canoe — was launched in 



166 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

the Boone river near Goldfield, and the two passengers 
made the lonely, hazardous voyage to our town. The starl 
was made before daybreak and the pair disembarked after 
nightfall at the Brewer creek bluff south of our city. Shel- 
ter at the George Cooper cabin was gratefully accepted and 
the next day the young couple were united in marriage. 

The fathers of the eloping couple followed them to 
Webster City. They found, however, that the journey had 
been made safely and the matrimonial knot tied, so they 
returned leisurely to their homes. 

A gathering of enthusiastic settlers was called as an 
appreciation of the skill and endurance of the young man 
who manipulated a dugout through twenty-five or thirt)' 
miles of flood-waters, and as a tribute to the courage of the 
young woman who trusted her life to the keeping of hei 
lover. 

This unusual wedding-trip has been related with muct; 
amusement and interest for nearly sixty years. 

Early Births. 

The birth of Bryant Brewer, in 1848, already has been 
recorded. On the seventeenth of March, 1848, there was 
born into the Hook's Point household of Major Brassfield. 
a daughter. After our arrival, the little girl was named for 
father. She was called Sevilla Wilson Brassfield. Emma 
daughter of Sevilla, and my daughter Harriet have been 
life-long, intimate friends. The June season of roses 
marked the arrival of Bobbie, Jr., at the home of Roberl 
Palmer, at Bone's mill site; and in the early autumn, a son 
was born to Nathan Stanley and wife — the couple who were 
newly married before our departure from the East. 

The first child born in this section of the Boone valley 
was Leander Brewer, a brother. He arrived soon after our 
permanent location at Newcastle, early in 1850. He sur- 
vived only a few months. Twin sons were born at the home 
of Jim Jenkins in the fall of 1850. They were christened 
Nathan and Newman. Franklin Palmer and Billie Brewer 



ACCIDENTS, BIRTHS, WEDDINGS, DEATHS 167 

came to Mrs. Bob Palmer and Mrs. Bill Brewer early in 
1851. Somewhat later a daughter was born to John and 
Lucy Drought, the couple whose marriage has been men- 
tioned in foregoing pages. 

February, 1853, our own family was increased by the 
arrival of a male infant, William Granville Brewer, named 
for W. G. Berkley, a lawyer who had located in Homer. 
Just before the departure of Major Brassfield's family for 
Wright county, a son. Perry, was added to their numbers. 

It would not have been necessary for pioneers to solicit 
settlers from other states except for the fact that twenty-one 
years are required to develop a citizen. The business of 
family-increase was given strict attention in our commu- 
nity, and quite as portly records were being made in adja- 
cent settlements. I need only mention the names of Jack 
Mericle, George Goodrich, Lou Wolsey and Evelyn Mc- 
Kowan. Lou and George were born at Homer in 1853 and 
1854. Evelyn was born at Lakin's Grove where the family 
sojourned temporarily awaiting her arrival. She grew to 
womanhood and was married to W. G. Brewer. A son of 
this couple, Edwin Brewer, resides south of our city. Wal-, 
ter Wilson Brewer, a brother, was born at the time of the 
first trip of the Wilson brothers to our city. He was made 
the namesake of Walt Wilson. 

Early Deaths. 

A brother, Leander Brewer, died in the month of Au- 
gust, 1850, and was buried on the south Superior street 
hill where father and other relatives later were laid to rest. 

A few weeks after this death in our family the year- 
old son of Nathan Stanley died from the effect of a snake- 
bite. The child, who had been playing in the yard, crept 
into the cabin crying but could not explain his trouble. The 
mother soothed him to sleep but his arm soon began to 
swell and change color. The parents then realized what 
had happened but too late to counteract the poison. The 
child died before nightfall. 



168 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Uncle Billy Stanley passed away in the fall of 1851. 
His grave was made near the site of his homestead where 
we first located at Hope Hollow, or near Bone's mill site. 

Fever and ague claimed its first victim in 1852. Maria 
Wheeler, daughter of Joe Wheeler, was a good chum of 
mine and her death was a personal loss to me. 

The first wife of Henry Lott died before our arrival. 
Dates do not agree in different accounts. According to the 
chapter on "The Lott Tragedy," the time of her passing 
was the late winter of 1847 or the early part of 1848. 
The same chapter records the demise of the second wife 
of Henry Lott in 1853, 

The death of Tom Mills and son in a prairie fire, the 
freezing of Bob Downing and Jim Jenkins, the accidental 
death of Luther Schultz and the account of Phil Jenkins' 
fatal encounter with a boar already have been written. 

The death of my father was not an early one in the his- 
tory of the town but a review of the circumstances which 
resulted in his death may be found in the chapter, "Bio- 
graphical." 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Women's Work. 

Our first stove was purchased some time after locating 
permanently. It was the high-oven, spider-legged make 
and was nicknamed the '"step-stove.' We used the cook 
stove very little, preferring tlie more laborious fireplace 
methods. While romping about the house the children 
clambered over the stove as they did over the loom, rafters 
and beds. 

Wlien there was a houseful of company or work being 
done which required all available floor space some of the 
children, say a yearling, a two year old, and a three year 
old were permitted to play on the bed. The billowy feather 
beds and pillows were soft and warm and were greatly 
appreciated even by older youngsters. 

The new stove was one step up to the hearth level, a 
second step onto the griddle surface and still another and 
higher step to the top of the oven; hence, the "step-stove." 

The purchase money for this cook-stove was procured 
by digging, drying and selling gentian roots. On the up- 
land south of Brewer's creek, and in the Huddleston pas- 
ture grew the finest field of gentian that white man or Indian 
ever viewed. The season after our arrival we marketed 
enough of the plant roots to buy a set of delftware dishes — 
twenty-four each of cups, saucers and plates. We also 
gathered the wild indigo plant which was used for bluing. 

The women-folk, in addition to the regular routine of 
water carrying, cooking, churning, sausage making, berry 
picking, vegetable drying, sugar and soap boiling, hominy 
hulling, medicine brewing, washing, nursing, weaving, sew- 
ing, straw platting, wool picking, spinning, quilting, knit- 
ting, gardening and various other tasks, found time to 



170 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

exchange work with the neighbors and to search the fields 
and woods for herbs, roots and fruits for sale or home con- 
sumption. 

Corn Dodger. 

The use of milk or soda in preparing corn dodger was 
the exception instead of the rule. We sometimes used, in 
lieu of soda, the white ash residue from burned hard wood. 

The dodger batter was mixed stiffer than we mix it 
today. Sometimes a few cracklings, a little goose-grease or 
venison fat was added for shortening. We separated the 
mass into leaves and patted them into shape. Four of them 
were placed around the edge of the skillet and one in the 
center. This arrangement allowed a better heat distribu- 
tion than if baked in one cake. 

The corn pone, a sweetened, raised cake was baked in 
the skillet in one mass. Mush and milk, or fried mush, 
were staples which recurred almost with diurnal persist- 
ence. 

We used for baking corn dodger an iron skillet eight- 
een inches across, with legs three or four inches high. A 
bed of coals from the fireplace was raked out on the stone 
or clay hearth, and upon it the skillet was set. The iron 
cover, the edge of which was rolled upward about two 
inches, was placed over the skillet and live coals were 
heaped upon it. The top heat helped to brown the dodger 
on the upper side; if one top-supply of coals died out and 
did not suffice to finish the baking, another supply re- 
placed it. 

When there was company, which was nearly every day, 
one skillet of dodger was not enough, and we resorted to 
the more primitive method of baking. The desired num- 
ber of extra patties was prepared and placed on a smooth 
board which was adjusted in a slanting position in front 
of the fireplace near enough to the flame to dry and brown 
the dodger. When dodger material ran low we mixed it 
with crushed acorns, but the bread was not relished. Later 



WOMEN'S WORK 



171 




172 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

we made an oat cake but with more hulls than meal it was 
not a gustatory success. 

Corn, early in the fall before it was hard enough to 
grind in the coffee-mill, was reduced on a corn-grater — a 
piece of tin which had been perforated with a nail. During 
the immature, milky period of corn the grated meal was a 
sticky, pasty mass which soured very quickly and made 
fresh grating and baking necessary for every meal. 

Buckwheat biscuit and flap-jacks frequently were on the 
breakfast menu. One pancake at a time was baked in the 
dodger skillet. So soggy were they that it was possible 
to carry to the table a leathery specimen doubled over a 
case-knife without cutting it in two. 

Rolling Pin. 

Salt-risin' and soda-biscuit were a better culinary suc- 
cess when baked in the cook-stove. For the biscuit, a new 
rolling-pin — a smooth pealed stick — was needed nearly 
every day. It had a way of disappearing known only to 
the smaller children. When it could not be found the bis- 
cuit dough was rolled with a fresh ear of corn — or, may- 
hap, the cob. Major Brassfield declared that three times a 
day, for more than seventy years, he ate hot corn bread or 
fresh soda biscuit dressed with sorghum, hog-grease or 
fowl-fat gravy. Cold dodger or yeast bread he would not 
eat. 

A large cooking-kettle which was adjusted on the burn- 
ing logs or swung over the flame from the mantel-hooks, 
served for meat, vegetables, succotash, dumplings or any 
other boiled-dinner preparations. Potatoes or eggs usu- 
ally were baked among the embers, and roasting-ears were 
parched instead of boiled. If the pot "biled" over it made 
no diff^erence. 

The two or three gallon coff"ee-pot bubbled all day long 
on its nest of coals for the benefit of tired or belated hunt- 
ers, but its contents often was only the liquor from boiled 
parched corn, rye or barley. 



WOMEN'S WORK 173 

Crab-Apple and Plum Butter. 

Wild plum or crab-apple butter were sweetened with 
sorghum or honey and were simmered in the every-day 
iron pot. For hours at a time I have manipulated the 
wooden or horn-spoon to prevent the burning of these deli- 
cacies. Scorching, however, could not have added a shade 
to their sable hue and their bitter sourness when finished 
would have caused a self-respecting pig to squeal had he 
condescended to taste them. 

The stirring spoons and paddles were like the "now 
you see it, now you don't" trick. When they were lost a 
quick substitute was made from a flexible but tough switch, 
say a yard long. The ends were brought together, tied with 
a cord and wound like a handle until the loop at the center 
diminished to the proper size. These willow loops served 
very well for stirring gravy or soup. If greater strength 
or stiff^ness were necessary several whips were bound to- 
gether in the loop-shape. Like nearly all articles without 
value this cooking assistant usually could be found when 
others of greater efficiency were irretrievably lost. 

These willow wall-decorations also furnished an appe- 
tizing and a convenient roosting-place for flies. 

Hominy. 

The hulling of hominy required more labor, skill and 
diligent attention than many of the other tasks performed 
by the pioneer house workers. We timed hominy hulling 
so it did not conflict with the many busy days when the iron 
pots were being used. 

The kettles were a little more than half filled with 
shelled corn. A medium-strength lye from the ash-leach 
was poured over it and the corn soaked until the tough 
hulls cracked and loosened. 

The lye then was drained off^ and there ensued a long 
process of washing and stewing the corn through changes of 
waters to remove the hull and extract the lye. These wash- 



174 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

ings, often in the icy water of the creek, induced swelling of 
the hands to an unnatural size, and they seemed to acquire 
an unusual weight. The lye water likewise contributed to 
my discomfort by eating the cuticle from hands and arms 
and the interval from one hulling to another was required 
to restore them to normal size and condition. 

The hominy was clean and firm when finished and if 
cooked and served with the gravy from home-smoked ham 
it was greatly relished by our family and the Indians who 
occasionally ate with us. A kettle of hominy did not last 
very many days. Whenever the corn was in condition or 
the supply sufficient the preparation of hominy, practically, 
was continuous. 

Sometimes in severe weather we soaked the corn, 
poured it in a coarse tow bag, and partially rubbed off the 
hulls on the washboard. We frequently were compelled, 
from pressure of other work and a long list of boarders, 
to cook corn without hulling it at all. 

Vinegar. 

A stone jar that carefully was handled throughout our 
journey from the East was the one which held the vinegar- 
plant. Our family never was without vinegar; and the 
"mother" brought with us supplied the neighbors with a 
start for their pickling requirements. 

It was quite as essential that vinegar-"mother" be used 
for a starter as it was at that time thought to be necessary 
to supply a sick cow with a cud, or to slit and salt her tail 
as a remedy for hollow-horn. 

Rain water and the late runs of maple-sap which be- 
came stringy were used for vinegar-liquor, and this was 
enriched by sugar-pot scrapings, sorghum settlings, 
"worked" preserves and discolored honey. In this con- 
genial bath the vinegar-plant grew thick and tough and 
covered the upper surface of the sap. Shearing a piece 
from this "mother" as a nucleus for a neighbor's vinegar- 
jar was almost like cutting a piece of flesh. 



WOMEN'S WORK 175 

Our vinegar-vat and pickle-barrel were covered with a 
tent cloth and pieces of slabs held the covering in place; 
nevertheless, the sage who said that "Vinegar never catches 
flies" was very much mistaken. 

Vinegar pie — sweetened vinegar thickened with flour — 
was considered to be a great delicacy by the children. 
They, however, scarcely ever received a piece, for when 
the appetite of company and the grown-ups at home was 
appeased the supply was exhausted or at least greatly 
diminished. But for mother's care in cutting, serving and 
saving we would have missed many a toothsome tidbit from 
the table. Waiting until the second or third table-serving 
was the common fate of pioneer children. 

Cane-Molasses. 

Our supplies of maple sugar and wild honey made it 
unnecessary to pay immediate attention to growing sor- 
ghum. Our neighbors, however, never failed to plant a 
patch of sugar-cane. 

The first molasses-mill that I remember was operated 
by Uncle Ike Lyon by the well known armstrong-power 
method. The rollers were fashioned from two pieces of 
log, each about eighteen inches long and eight inches 
through and they were barked and trimmed to a smooth sur- 
face. The rollers were arranged on end, one beside the 
other, in a slab frame. A windlass handle was geared from 
the top to work on either side so an extra man-power occa- 
sionally could be utilized. 

The cane in the field was stripped, topped, cut, hauled 
to the mill in wood-racks and fed between the wooden roll- 
ers a few stalks at a time, or in quantities to approximate 
the strength of the turners, A wooden vat beneath the ma- 
chine caught the cane-juice as it was pressed from the 
stalks. This thin-as-water liquid was boiled, and boiled, 
and boiled in the sap kettles and skimmed, and skimmed, 
and skimmed until almost nothing remained of the original 
quantity. The residue, however, was sweet and a bright 



176 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

brown if not scorched; if burned the product was black, 
bitter, and a partial or total loss. A kettle of cane-juice 
yielded less than a gallon of finished sorghum. 

Constant attention and consummate care were necces- 
sary to produce quality in molasses. Simmering to finish 
the syrup was done over a very slow but uniform fire, with 
continuous stirring, to prevent scorching. The faces and 
hands of "molassy-paddlers" often were seared or burned 
to blisters, either from the heat or a mishap in handling. 
Every run of cane-juice made necessary a resetting of the 
grinder and rehanging of kettles, as the refuse of pressed 
stalks littered the mill-yard and the area about the kettles 
became a trampled, gummy, sticky mass of dirt, leaves, 
grass, moss and molasses-skimmings. The helpers pre- 
vented damage to boots or shoes by working in the surface 
muck barefooted but the frequent frosty mornings induced 
them to move at a double quick gait. The hand-power cane- 
mill soon was improved in construction. A third roller was 
added and a sweep — a pole with the proper curve — was at- 
tached to the center of the frame and made ox-power avail- 
able. 

Many of our citizens remember the double horsepower 
cane-mill operated by Uncle Benny Millard, at the site of 
Bing Howard's residence on South Superior and East Wal- 
nut streets. The equipment of this mill — the furnace ar- 
rangement, the shallow evaporating and simmering pans, 
the means for drawing off and barreling molasses — was 
the most complete and efficient ever brought to this town. 
My education in the art of making sorghum was acquired 
in Uncle Benny's mill. Farmers from miles around 
brought their cane to be ground and boiled down into mo- 
lasses. Great ricks were piled about the mill and the 
pressed stalks materially helped to fill the slough at the 
foot of the hill. 

The price of molasses, notwithstanding the work of 
raising cane and the care required to produce salable 
syrup was from twenty to twenty-five cents per gallon. 



WOMEN'S WORK 177 

Hundreds of household brooms were made from the 
heads of cane-stalks which had been stripped of their seeds. 

Preparation of Pumpkin. 

The Yankee Red and Spotted Sweet were the varieties 
of pumpkins raised by us. Pie material, either for filling 
or crust, was not plentiful, although we have mixed some 
ingredients that would discount and discredit war substi- 
tutes. Pumpkin-butter, however, furnished a perennial 
supply for pie-filling. 

A housewife who has superintended the stewing and 
simmering of fresh pumpkin for pies needs no reminder of 
care and time expended; but the time and care were dou- 
bled or trebled in simmering pumpkin-butter, as it was 
sweetened with molasses or honey and boiled down until 
it would keep in open crocks. The formation of a mouldy 
covering on the receptacles only indicated that the stuff 
was keeping— at least, it was not fermenting. Pumpkin- 
butter the same thickness as a slice of bread was the rule 
for sandwiches, and mother seemed always too liberal with 
the spreading. I did not like the pumpkin-butter. 

The work of drying pumpkin was not so exacting as 
butter making but it was of longer duration. A cart load 
of pumpkins was dumped near the creek. They were 
rolled into the water and washed. If we were not pressed 
for time the pumpkins were peeled; otherwise, the rind was 
not taken off until winter when preparing for meals. The 
sections, moreover, held together better if unpeeled. 

The pumpkin was cut in two in the middle the cross 
way of the grain and the seed cavity scraped out. Rings 
from these halves were cut from one-half to three-quarters 
of an inch thick and strung on poles. Hickory sticks long 
enough to reach from one overhead cabin beam to another 
supported hundreds of the pumpkin-rings. The small ends 
and broken pieces were thrown into receptacles and in the 
evening the whole family helped to string them on cords 
as apples were prepared for drying, later. Without exag- 



178 REMINISCENCES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

geration, the cabin ceiling-space was entirely decorated 
with the drying pumpkin-rings and festoons. The sticks 
holding the large rings were arranged in the back part of 
the space and the small-sized rings at the front, so tall mem- 
bers of the family or visitors would not have to stoop in 
passing under them. 

Late dried pumpkin did not cure so rapidly as that 
prepared in warmer weather; but the fly proposition had to 
be considered. It is safe to say, with our best efforts ex- 
pended in "shooing" them out and sleeping with open 
doors, that several millions of flies absorbed their meals 
from drying pumpkin for a greater or less number of 
days — until they were frozen out. The dried product was 
soaked and stewed after the supply of pumpkin-butter was 
exhausted. 

Pumpkin-rings always were put into the cooking-pot 
with the boiled dinner. If an unbroken section reached the 
table the youngster with the least table manners fished it 
from the platter. With one end in his fingers, and head 
tipped backward the strip of pumpkin was held above the 
mouth and the gourmand seemed to swallow the whole 
piece without chewing. 

Early pumpkin yields on the virgin soil of Iowa were 
phenomenal, and consumption did not fall below the 
supply. 

Wild Grapes. 

Wild grapes also were dried by us but there absolutely 
was nothing left of them when finished but skin, seeds and 
an intense sourness. Elderberries, likewise, receive drying 
attention and when mixed with the grapes furnished some 
substance for sauce or pies, but in my humble judgment, 
mixing them accentuated the worthlessness of both. 

Fresh grapes put down in open jars, a layer of grapes 
and a layer of maple sugar, were relished by all if they 
were kept well cooled. If fermentation took place the 
juice was pressed out and used for wine or vinegar. 



WOMEN'S WORK 179 

Pie Baking. 

Pies were baked in the dodger skillet or on plates which 
were set inside the skillet, and the lid covered with coals. 
If the bottom crust did not bake properly it was removed 
from the skillet, loosened about the edge of the plate, an- 
other plate was placed on top of the pie and all turned 
bottom side up. The first plate then was taken away and 
the pie replaced in the skillet until finished. Pie-crust usu- 
ally was made from biscuit-dough and the above operation 
was not difficult. We preferred the skillet-pie as it was 
larger and the internal compartment could be filled to 
repletion. 

Wild-gooseberries were not good drying material but 
during their season they were greatly relished for pies not- 
withstanding the inconvenience of picking and preparing. 
The prickly variety was not so sour as the smooth-skins 
hence their preference. The gooseberry bushes were stud- 
ded thickly with briars and the prickly-berry itself was 
quite as profusely covered with stickers. Many of the 
gatherers wore mittens while picking. The berries were 
placed in a tow-bag and rolled or kneaded on the puncheon 
floor until the needle-like points were broken. 

Gooseberry pie was baked without sugar but a thick- 
ened, sweet dip was prepared and poured over it when 
served. Often sweetened milk was used as a dressing. We 
doubtless were usurping the prerogative of the pigs but we 
relished the mixed mess and lived through the inflictions 
of indigestible preparations. 

A lusty-growing gooseberry thicket was a fine sight but 
it was one of the problems of the pioneer with the grub- 
bing hoe. 

Spitted Pheasants. 

Our bow and arrow huntsman one day brought home a 
brace of fat pheasants which he dressed for himself and 
placed on the open-tined roasting-spit at the fireplace. 
While we women were busy elsewhere Lockjaw, the bull- 



180 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

dog, came into the cabin and appropriated one of the birds 
for his supper. The theft soon was discovered but knowing 
the dog never relinquished his hold on anything until it 
was dead or devoured we did not contest his possession 
of the pheasant. 

A wild turkey we dressed and prepared for roasting in 
the usual way. A twisted cord was tied to his legs and 
fastened to the iron bar over the fire. The whirling motion 
browned him uniformly as the cord untwisted. The fire 
sometimes became too hot and the bird was charred by the 
blaze, in which case the string usually burned in two and 
the turkey had to be pulled from the ashes and coals and 
rehung. 

The fireplace roasting process was not a satisfactory 
one. The juicy drippings were caught in the dripping-pan 
for gravy but the meat was rendered dry and unsavory. 
The string-hanging method was employed only when game 
was too large to be boiled in the pot or dodger skillet. 
When a fowl had reached such proportions it was so old 
and tough that even modern methods of cookery could not 
have modified its texture or taste. 

Ham Roasting. 

I recollect on one occasion I was instructed to prepare 
and roast a venison ham during mother's absence. I de- 
cided that it was an auspicious time for play. I prepared 
the ham but instead of the usual twisted string the dog 
chain was ultilized as a hanger. While this method did not 
furnish the rotary motion, I figured that it could be changed 
about occasionally and obviate the necessity for constant 
vigilance to prevent the string burning episodes. Happily 
I hitched the leg of venison to one end of the chain and the 
other end was attached to the cooking-bar over the fireplace. 
The crackling hickory logs were prodded, a fresh supply of 
fuel added, and I betook myself to the barnyard to partic- 
ipate in the sport with the younger children. 

We played I spy, mumblety-peg, stalked about on 
forked-stick stilts, shinned up the trees, bent limbs for a 



WOMEN'S WORK 181 

teeter, climbed on and jumped off the stable roof, and in 
the excitement I forgot the admonitions of my mother and 
the needs of the stomach. Racing around the haystack I 
happened to turn toward the cabin and beheld great vol- 
umes of smoke issuing from the open door. I dashed for- 
ward in terror that the house was on fire, but as I came near, 
the odor of burning flesh off^ered the explanation. I knew 
before entering that the fine fat ham was burned to a cin- 
der. Fortunately there was no inflammable material near 
the fireplace; and — fortunately for me — father did not 
beat his children. 

Soft Soap. 

Soft soap making, as we knew it, now is nearly a lost 
art. The next necessary structure after a cabin had been 
provided for the family was an ash-leach. Six-foot pieces 
of puncheon were framed into V-shape. The point, one 
foot from the ground, terminated in a slab-trough which 
carried off^ the lye. The leach was filled with hardwood 
ashes and water was poured upon it. The resulting seep- 
age was a dark-colored, acrid, corrosive lye which we han- 
dled carefully or suff^ered severe burns from contact with 
the liquid. 

Lye was considered to be the proper strength if an egg 
floated on its surface or if, when a feather was dipped into 
it, the barbs slipped easily from the shaft. The lye when 
boiled with a sufficient quantity of grease or refuse of flesh 
made excellent soft soap although the often mouldy, ill- 
smelling mass was not calculated to encourage the soap- 
maker. 

Our stent in the soap line was about three barrels dur- 
ing the season. The first batch, made from selected soap- 
grease, was reserved for toilet use. "All was grist that 
came to our mill." Venison and mutton-tallow, the skin 
and trimmings of meat, fat from the hides or pelts of 
smaller varmints, likewise the "riddled" intestines of ani- 
mals were utilized. The latter were prepared by ripping 



182 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




WOMEN'S WORK 183 

them open with a bowie-knife and washing them in the 
creek. 

Empty soap barrels were used as receptacles for soap- 
grease until the next soap-making season which was when- 
ever the supply ran short. If the shortage occurred when 
we did not have sufficient soap-grease for a fresh batch we 
killed a couple of pigs for the purpose. Housewives felt 
as much pride in taking off a nice batch of soft soap as they 
did in the conscientious preparation of other creature 
comforts. 

When the youthful back was nearly broken with turning 
the grindstone to sharpen axes, grub-hoe, briar-scythe, adz, 
frow, draw-shave, wedges, etcetera, relief was gained by 
smearing soft soap on the frictional points. Occasionally 
we ran short of tar-grease and a substitute for lubricating 
the wagon wheels was found by applying soft soap to the 
hubs. Also, I suppose there was some mutual soft-soaping 
among neighbors and visitors. Soft soap was not used 
exclusively for washing purposes. It was a favorable as 
well as a sinister agent. 

It remained for Mam Jenkins to make the left-handed 
use of soft soap. Instead of hickory-oil or birch-buds as 
truth-persuaders, whenever a youngster was found to have 
told a fib a spoonful of soft soap was placed in his mouth 
and retained long enough for the lye to have a biting effect 
upon the tongue. Mrs. Jenkins loudly praised and de- 
fended her treatment but she made no converts to soap- 
doping, perhaps because the mothers did not wish to waste 
the washing material. Father declared that if everyone 
who stretched the truth were soft-soaped not even Mam 
Jenkins would be left to administer the dose. 

The process of soap making kept the hands clean for 
the time, at least, and it was necessary to keep the finger- 
nails closely pared. The trimming usually was done by 
the following rule: "Cut them on Monday for health; cut 
them on Tuesday for wealth; cut them on Wednesdav for 
news; cut them on Thursday for shoes; cut them on Fridav 
for sorrow; cut them on Saturday, joy on the morrow; cut 



184 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

them on Sunday for evil, for all the next week you'll be 
ruled by the devil." Usually girls chose Saturday for fin- 
gernail clipping as it was understood that "joy on the 
morrow" meant the presence of a chosen young man. 

Washing. 

The work of washing for a large family, and transients, 
was not a light undertaking. My mother was kept con- 
stantly busy with the manufacture of household articles 
and the work of converting raw clothing material into fin- 
ished raiment. I was the oldest girl so the weight of the 
common housework fell upon me. 

A great pile of dirty garments — and I use the word 
dirty instead of soiled advisedly — was collected at the end 
of the week. The rule was once a week change whether 
it was necessary or not, and if one happened to get a wet- 
ting and it wasn't Saturday, he managed to survive. 

Upon the stake-supported hickory pole was hung the 
water-filled iron kettles and a fire was built beneath them. 
One vessel was used for "breaking" — softening the water 
with lye — in the other the clothes were boiled. I am sure 
all will agree that without the liberal use of soft soap there 
would have been little effect upon such garments as hunt' 
ing shirts and jeans britches. Had anyone then suggested 
the use of black goods or lighter weight material for men's 
working shirts he would have been loudly ridiculed. 

Our clothes line was the rail fence; and the gooseberry 
bushes about the premises, likewise, were decorated with 
wearing apparel. A second round at the tubs the same day 
was not infrequent. If the garments became loosened from 
their moorings at the fence the hogs or dogs never failed 
to find and trample or wallow on them. We were glad, 
under such circumstances, if the clothes were found intact 
and not torn or chewed into strings. 

Quilts or heavy bedding were placed in a barrel and 
covered with a liberal supply of water and strong soft soap. 
These articles were "tromped out" by the bare-footed oper- 



WOMEN'S WORK 1S5 

ator, instead of being rubbed by hand. Occasionally I 
could induce one of the boys, by the promise of an extra 
dinner dish, to help with the tramping but they did not like 
the skin-puckering and tender-foot effect after the work 
was done. Fortunately going barefooted toughened and 
protected the skin somewhat. 

Changing the routine of kettle work was none too pleas- 
ant, for pot-cleaning then was necessary. Especially was 
this true at the "sugarin' off" season and after honeycomb 
had been melted and cooled for beeswax. The wax could 
not be removed except when the kettle was hot. I yet am 
unable to formulate a reason why 1 was not disfigured or 
burned to death while performing such heavy and danger- 
ous work at the edge of, and over an open fire. 

A young woman who was eligible to accept the atten- 
tions of the opposite sex could tell when she was to catch a 
beau, because of the unusual number of burs and brambles 
collected on her dress tail while working about the yard. It 
was a sure sign that a beau was due if a portion of the dress 
hem happened to become turned upward. It was, however, 
impossible to work about the premises or clamber over 
fences without acquiring the "beau sign," but the girl aspi- 
rant for honors was in danger of losing her chance of mar- 
riage if she were so careless as to step over the broom or 
mop in the presence of the young man, or if she made the 
beds unevenly. 

Preparation of Flax. 

When flax began to turn yellow at the base, it was 
pulled and left in the field a day or two to dry. Seed was 
collected by pulling the stalks through the ripple — a plank 
with wooden or wire teeth. The flax then was bundled into 
beats, arranged in tepee shape, tied at the top and kept 
dampened until rotting began and softened the fibre. 

The stalks then were dried and broken on a flax-brake, 
and swingled — hacked with a dull knife. It was not al- 
ways practicable to use approved kinds of flax-machines. 



186 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




WOMEN'S WORK 187 

Many times they were out of repair or loaned to the neigh- 
bors. My mother often threshed small quantities of flax 
across the back of a chair or bench, or it was pounded 
with any implement at hand. 

The woody bun, shives and remnants of bark, in the 
orderly process of manipulation, were removed. The 
strikes, or cleared fibres, were given a second round at the 
break — the heavy, flat, cog-fitting blocks for bruising. The 
mass was moistened and hetcheled with the wire combs 
and the long fibres were drawn out from the tow residue 
and refuse. 

Several hetchelings — the more the finer — were neces- 
sary, and much sorting or drawing of fine and coarse fibres 
to produce the desired choice threads for spinning. The 
bulk of material at length was ready to be rolled about 
the distaff^ on the small spinning-wheel. 

Spinning. 

Foot-power, by means of a treadle, drove the wheel. 
With moistened and deft fingers the spinner held the twist- 
ing, lengthening, evening cord as it ran in a thin line to 
the bobbin. The thread then was wound on the reel, into 
knots of, say, forty or more strands each, with perhaps 
twenty knots or lays to the skein. The number of threads 
in knot or skein varied, however. An automatic mechanism 
on the reel clicked when the set number of strands was 
wound and the operator then tied the marker for division 
of the skein. 

The finished skeins were taken through a long and labo- 
rious process of bleaching and softening. They were 
soaked and boiled in "broke" water, washed, rinsed, dried 
and made ready to bobbin for the loom. More than a dozen 
handling»were necessary before flax was ready to be woven, 
and after the weaving it was boiled, and beaten, and 
bleached before it was ready for the needle. 

Linen wearing apparel usually was made up in the 
natural color, and it was about worn out before it became 



188 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

comfortably soft and pliable. Men's linen smocks and 
britches were worn without miderclothing, and the proverb- 
ial hair-cloth shirt had little scratching advantage over the 
flax-fibre garments. 

Flax refuse after the first hetcheling was spun and woven 
into coarse material for bags and tarpaulins. Ropes were 
made from the coarser refuse. The process of growing, 
preparing, spinning and weaving flax seemed almost to be 
a demonstration of perpetual motion for one season's work 
overlapped the cropping of the following year. 

Spinning wheels always were carried among the early 
peddlers' supplies. The bulk was not great when knocked 
down and packed. All repairs were made at home except 
to the wheel itself. Skill in operating the spinning-wheel 
was acquired only after long and patient practice but the 
work was alluring and satisfying to the spinner. 

Preparation of Wool. 

It fell to my lot to pluck the coat or dead wool from 
sheep that died from exposure or accident. The fact that a 
sheep's carcass had lain until it was swollen, discolored and 
flyblown did not justify us in discarding the wool. Con 
servation and frugality were our watchwords all along the 
line. 

Fleeces from the dead sheep were washed and marked, 
and with those periodically sheared, were sent East to be 
prepared for spinning. Consignments of wool were mixed 
bunches of bags and bundles with coverings of old quilts 
or petticoats secured with tow strings and buckskin bands, 
or pinned together with the immense thorns which grew 
abundantly in briar-thickets and on thornapple trees. Sup- 
plies of wool often ran short, however, and the work was 
done at home. 

Washing wool before it was shorn from the sheep did 
very little good but it was done. Wool-pickings, for me, 
were long to be remembered tasks. This clearing the ref- 
use, burs and other foreign substances from wool was an 



WOMEN'S WORK 



ISO 




190 REMINISCENCES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

occasion for getting together by the neighbors. Wool-pick- 
ings were in the lists with quilting and sewing-bees which 
were arranged simultaneously with wood-choppings, log- 
rollings or cabin-raisings, and these affairs were celebrated 
with an evening party. 

Wool cards were fashioned from thin flat boards, say, 
six by twelve or more inches, with the handle extending 
from the center and on a line with the flat surface. The 
card-face was studded like the wire-tooth currycomb, with 
slightly bent steel teeth. The carder sat down. In her left 
hand she held one of the wool-cards flat on her knee with 
teeth up, and spread a bit of material on it. The right 
hand card was drawn across the other until the wool-fibres 
were straightened and parallel. They then were carefully 
removed from the teeth and deftly turned or tummed be- 
tween the backs of the cards and the fluff'y rolls were 
formed about a finger size. 

When a quantity of material was ready for spinning, 
an end of a roll was fastened into the spindle-slit. The 
spinner took hold of the long slender roll at a point which 
she estimated would lengthen to the desired size for yarn 
at the one drawing. A quick turn of the wheel, and the 
soft wool stretched as the spinner stepped backward two 
or three paces. When the rotation of the wheel had twisted 
the roll to the desired size and firmness, the operator briskly 
retraced her steps as the yarn was wound upon the spindle. 
Another section of the wool-roll was taken between the fin- 
gers as before, and the process repeated. 

The reel, as its name indicates, was used to skein the 
yarn from the spindle. If pressure of work would not per- 
mit use of the ungeared wheel for the winding, or if vis- 
itors made extra implements necessary, the home-made 
niddle-noddle — a hand-winder with center bar and a cross 
piece on either end — was used, and yarn was skeined from 
end to end crossing in the middle and knotted with the usual 
loop of yarn into so many threads each. 

When a skein was finished it was placed on the swifts 
or winding-blades and quilled — wound on headless spools. 



WOMEN'S WORK 



191 




192 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

or sections of pithless elderwood — ready for the woof- 
weaving shuttle; or the yarn was wound on larger spools 
or corncobs ready for the warping-bars, as the case re- 
quired. For immediate use yarn was skeined from hand 
to elbow and hung from the arm while being knitted. 

\^ caving. 

Loom-frames and ordinary fixtures were made by the 
men folks. The frame was about five or six feet, with six 
foot posts. Ihe corners were fitted and pinned with wooden 
pegs which could be driven out and the loom removed when 
not in use. Our loom often was lent to the neighbors. We 
brought with us from the East the cloth and warp-beams, 
reeds, shuttles and other parts which required nicety of 
mechanical execution in making. 

Reels, swifts and winding blades were susceptible of 
more or less modification in form and material. They 
were rigged with gearing, or with hand-cranks; with mov- 
able joints, or with holes in the frames for extension or 
contraction to accommodate the different sizes of skeins. 
Warping-bars were heavy, six feet square frames of peeled 
poles and wooden pegs. They hung from a fence post 
when not in use. 

The filled spools or corn cobs wound from the skeining 
accessories were set in the spool holder in rows, on pins 
which held but allowed them to turn freely as the yarn 
was warped on the bars. The number of spools varied 
according to the width of cloth to be woven. If yarn was 
line, several warpings were necessary to fill the reed. The 
thread-ends of warp from the spools were gathered in the 
hand, carried to and fastened on a wooden pin at the top 
of one of the bars. The warp was drawn across to the op- 
posite bar pin; and the work continued back and forth to 
the bottom of the frame. The course then was retraced to 
the starting point, or until a sufficient length of yarn was 
unwound for the length of cloth to be woven. A little extra 
warp was allowed for possible shrinkage. 



WOMEN'S WORK 193 

A group of warp-threads was called a bout, and the 
bouts were carefully wound on the warp beam by turning 
It with the pole-lever at one end ol the roller. Ihe rake — a 
bar set with many wooden pegs — helped materially in 
keeping the bouts of warp from getting out of place and 
becoming tangled. Notwithstanaing, before a weaving 
was finished the threaus often became hopelessly criss- 
crossed; and "picking bacK the rods" — slats which were 
slipped between the alternating threads in front of the 
warp-beam — was an almost constant occupation for the 
half-growns. 

\Vhen beamed, the bouts — a thread at a time — were 
brought forward and thumbed or, with a harness-hook, 
pulled through two sets of harness-eyes. The many singles 
which composed the harness were arranged at about the 
center ol the loom space on the inch-wide heddle-bars, 
which were suspended from the top by pulleys. The bars 
were in a horizontal position. The lower ones were fas- 
tened to the treadles below, and the harness hung vertically 
between them. 

Harness making was done on an open, removable-end 
frame about a foot wide and the length for easy handling, 
with an inch wide strip of wood through the central space. 
One frame-end was held between the knees of the worker. 
A waxed tow-thread was looped over one of the frame-bars. 
The extension of thread was carried to the center-bar and 
a knot tied on either side of it. This loop formed the har- 
ness-eye. The thread was extended to the other frame-bar 
and tied, taut, at its outer edge. The frame-end was re- 
moved and the finished harness was slipped off. The num- 
ber of harness varied with the width of cloth. 

The warp-threads, after being harnessed, were drawn, 
with a reed-hook, through the reed which was set in the 
batten — two threads between each reed. They then were 
brought forward over the breast beam, spread out, turned 
under and backward, and fastened to the knee-beam, or 
cloth roller. Warp could be saved by attaching the ends 
to an old piece of cloth for extension over the breast-beam 



194 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

lo start the new work to rolling on the cloth-beam, whicli 
was operated with crank and ratchet. 

Reeds were fine or coarse as the case required. There 
were two parallel bars of wood, about four inches apart 
and about four feet long. Between the bars were set the 
reeds which resembled the teeth of a comb. The reed was 
slipped into its grove in the batten, or beater, which was 
a swaying beam attached with side-bars to a rocking axle 
at the top of the loom. The reed in the swinging batten 
served to beat the woof firmly as it was woven by the 
operator. 

Fastened to the loom-beams or to the floor, so it could 
not slip backward, was a high bench on which sat the 
weaver. One foot pressed a treadle. One set of harness 
and the alternate threads were depressed below the others, 
across the width of the warp. The shuttle was thrown from 
one side to the other through the shed, or opening between 
the alternate warp-threads. The reed-batten was swung, 
and forced the woof firmly into place. The other foot- 
treadle was pressed as the first was released, and the sec- 
ond set of harness crossed down the opposite, alternate 
warp-threads, and the work continued. If designs were 
woven, several sets of harness were used and many di:er- 
ent colored bobbin-windings were necessary; but we did 
very little fancy weaving after leaving Indiana. We were 
fortunate if we kept enough plain material for immediate 
necessities. 

Loom-temples, or tenter-hooks, were two or three inch 
wide strips of wood, with a center adjustment for shorten- 
ing or lengthening in accordance with the width of cloth. 
In both ends were set several steel teeth. The breaking- 
joint at the middle was loosened, the end teeth were in- 
serted in the selvage, the temples spread to a length for 
firmly holding the cloth at an even width, and they were 
pressed flat and fastened with a wooden button. 

The work of carpet weaving was identical with that of 
cloth except for the coarseness of warp and filling. The 
bobbins and shuttles for cloth were too small for carpet 



WOMEN'S WORK 195 

use SO simple slats with notched ends were wound with 
carpet rags and ultized instead of shuttles, although the 
motion was much slower. The brilliant and vari-colored, 
striped rag carpets were a delight to the eye. The "hit and 
miss" possessed the same quality of durability with the 
added advantage of using up all kinds of material. 

Great satisfaction was evinced by women who pro- 
duced unusual smoothness in texture, or accuracy in de- 
sign when weaving either woolen or linen cloth. The fab- 
ric woven in linen warp and wool filling became the jeans 
for trousers. It sold freely among families whose mem- 
bers were less proficient weavers. The yellow or brown 
checked material was called linsey-woolsey, and also found 
ready sale. 

One might think that homespun and home-woven linen 
sheets and towels would be indestructible, that they would 
wear indefinitely, but the old articles constantly were being 
replaced by new ones. If we wished to insure long life 
to a linen consignment, the filling was dampened before 
weaving. This method, however, made the cloth all but 
unmanageable in the wash tub, and about as good as a 
board for a towel. 

All clothing was seamed with the hand back-stitch and 
with tow-thread, which hung in a loosely braided skein 
about the sewer's neck. When the strands were clipped 
the threads were a convenient needle length. A bunch of 
tow furnished household cord. It was twisted by grandpap 
and the toddlers. 

We did not use the small hand looms or frames for 
bands, suspenders or shoelaces. The former ornamenta- 
tion was platted as we braided straw for hats. For the 
latter we used buckskin, and galluses were knitted with 
coarse yarn. 

Spinning-wheels always were decorated with hanks of 
yarn, bunches of tow or rolls of wool ready for instant use. 
Visitors never were idle. Women either brought an apron- 
ful of wool or flax to be cleared and sorted, or at once 
off^ered their services to mother for any available work. 



196 REMINISCENCES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




WOMEN'S WORK 197 

Spinning and knitting were the perennially unfailing chal- 
lenge for assistance. The buzzing hum of the wheels or the 
busily flying fingers did not detract from the social enjoy- 
ment of the producers of useful material. 

The "spinster" still is honored with kindly remem- 
brance in the effort to perpetuate the art of spinning. I 
bow in wondering contemplation of the tireless workers, 
who with peaceful resignation and conscientious devotion 
performed these painstaking pioneer duties. 

Goose Plucking. 

Goose plucking was an occasion of pleasure and hila- 
rity quite as impatiently awaited as the date for the pres- 
ent day circus or menagerie. Instead of penning the geese 
at night we chased each victim about the premises until 
caught. A personal and strenuous encounter usually was 
experienced with the ganders of the flock. They gave bat- 
tle with bills and wings while vociferously screaming and 
hissing, but when overpowered and plucked they, in dis- 
gust and humiliation, sought shelter for their half-naked 
bodies and refuge from the curious gaze of members of 
the flock whose smooth, shining coats of feathers were 
undisturbed. 

Goose plucking was done by the women. The bird was 
grasped firmly by both feet, turned upon his back and the 
breast feathers removed. The work was carefully done to 
prevent tearing the skin and injuring the flesh of the fowl. 
We did not pull the back covering, for if heavy rains came 
on while unprotected by feathers, the geese did not thrive. 

When the quill ends of plucked feathers were dry and 
shining they were "ripe." Early hatched geese were re- 
lieved of their feathers four times during the season. If 
one-half pound of feathers per goose was saved from the 
four scrimmages we were well satisfied with the yield of 
pillow and bed-filling material. 

Sixty years ago the young woman of marriageable age 
who was unprovided with at least one or two feather beds 



198 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

as her contribution to household furnishing was considered 
to be somewhat improvident if not downright shiftless. 

Garden Seeds; Storage. 

The exchange of garden seeds among the neighbors was 
an indication that spring was approaching. Every cabin 
was a seed-house; and each parcel was known by the wrap- 
ping or its particular color or kind of string. Seeds were 
stored in piggins and the various sized gourds of which 
we raised an abundant supply. 

Large, small, medium and immense-sized gourds deco- 
rated the inside walls of the cabin and hung alongside the 
stretched and drying animal pelts on the outside. The nat- 
ural growth of gourds into shapes convenient for house- 
hold handling, after being trimmed and cleared of seeds, 
made them very useful where kitchen utensils were not 
numerous. The calabash, dipper and sugar-trough gourds 
were of greatest utility. 

The paunch of an animal, after being cleared, cleaned 
and dried, made a good hunter's canteen, or with a larger 
opening and a rawhide puckering-string it served as a re- 
ceptacle for seeds or other dry material for storage. 

The safe storage of seeds from the raids of rats and 
mice was next to impossible. Daily handling and watch- 
fulness was our only hope, but many night marauders ac- 
complished their work of destruction. If all the members 
of a family went visiting for a day they were fortunate if 
the pumpkin-seed supply had not disappeared or been 
destroyed by the rodents during their absence. The only 
safe place for seeds was inside the covered stone-jars or 
crocks but they induced dampness and mould, besides we 
did not have enough of them for our manifold needs. 

Quilt Designs. 

There was a commendable reciprocity in the exhibition 
and distribution of new patchwork quilt designs. The dis- 
play was made with quite as much pride as is the showing 



WOMEN'S WORK 199 

of artistic fancy-work today. All plans, patterns, ideas or 
innovations were pleasantly passed along for community 
use, and sent to distant friends by mail or by travelers. 
This was true, likewise, of clothing cutting. Exclusiveness 
in the cut or trim of apparel was unthought of. Individ- 
uality in dress could not be maintained, and a new style 
was worn somewhat as it is today, regardless of the embon- 
point or sylph-like proportions of the wearer. 

The patchwork bed cover was sewn to the quilting 
frames and suspended from the overhead beams by ropes 
attached at the four corners. Under this canopy was a 
fine playhouse for the children, and many pricked fingers 
have resulted from bobbing heads beneath the quilt. 

When the quilters were not at work the quilt was hoisted 
above our heads by winding the ropes about the crossed 
frame-ends. The youngsters tossed their playthings into 
the sagging receptacle, and if several days elapsed between 
quilting-times, the lost and found department was estab- 
lished. A quilt was well seasoned with smoke and dust 
before it was finished and one scarcely was removed from 
the rack before another was put on. 

The quilters' fingers often were in a chronic state of 
tenderness from needle prickings. The women, to obviate 
this condition, seared the forefinger and thumb on a hot 
poker before beginning operations. Buckskin thimbles 
were worn. Quilts were generously used for bundling and 
wrapping up when traveling. 

The fancy-work of today does not discredit the needle- 
work done in the candle light by hard working pioneer 
women sixty years ago. 

The "hope box" of the past generation was a chest full 
of homespun and home-woven cloth, patchwork quilts and 
wool-padded comforters. 

Straw Platting. 

Straw-platting for home-made hats was done entirely 
by the women-folk. If straw was cut after the grain had 



200 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

headed^ — when changing color from green to yellow but not 
ripe enough to be brittle — it would retain its pliability for 
a long time; and if dampened before using, could be 
manipulated easily. A braid, usually of seven to eleven 
strands of oat or wheat-straw, whichever material was 
more plentiful or in the better condition, made a plat the 
most convenient working width. 

The sewing of the straw-trips began in the middle of 
the crown and the hat was rudely shaped as it progressed. 
Two hats apiece was reckoned as a starter. The second, 
or Sunday hat, was expected to last over into the next sea- 
son and was then to be used for common; thereafter, one 
hat apiece each year kept up the perennial supply. 

The preparation of material was pleasant work but re- 
quired careful attention. After the grain-stalks were gath- 
ered it was necessary to sort, joint, strip and loosely tie 
them into bundles which were placed on a smooth surface 
to prevent bending or breaking the straws. Storing for 
future use was impracticable as the mice destroyed it as 
soon as placed. 

If the demand for platting material exceeded the sup- 
ply some of the "louse-cages" were finished only with eye- 
shades, visors or bills, and others without rim adornment. 

Young women were really sincere when they sought to 
excel in the preparation of household articles. Their 
teaching was that such excellence brought its reward in de- 
sirable matrimonial favor and the final fulfillment of wom- 
an's mission in life. 

Cheese Making. 

Juice from the gooseweed or bedstraw plant served us 
in curdling the milk for cheese making when the regular 
agent, calf's rennet, was not to be had. This rarely hap- 
pened, however. 

When a calf or lamb was killed it was as necessary to 
cleanse, dry and save the stomach as to prepare any other 
part of the animal for food. Since but a small piece of 



WOMEN'S WORK 201 

ihe leathery substance was necessary for our cheese manu- 
facture one rennet histed a long time. Sometimes we bor- 
rowed a rennet "settin' " — say an inch or two square — 
from a neighbor. The rennet of a sucking pig sometimes 
was used for the curdling process. Many plant seeds pos- 
sessed the quality of milk curdling but their use was not 
necessary. 

Our cheese product would not pass muster in appear- 
ance or quality with some of the finely finished discs of 
today. There was a wide range of size, shape, color and 
consistency, according to the season, the receptacles, and 
the scald of the batch of curds. Mouldy cheese was the 
rule instead of the exception, and many persons who con- 
sidered themselves expert judges declared cheese was not 
palatable unless it was infested with skippers. 

The night's and morning's milk were used together, and 
scalds were made in the large iron kettles. The pressing 
out and curing was a tedious process, and the discs were 
stored on slab shelves in the smokehouse. Cheese at our 
home did not spoil with age. More often it was eaten too 
green than too ripe and the supply did not begin to approx- 
imate the demand. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Home Manufacture of Necessary Articles. 

Our first brooms were of the hazel-switch make. A 
l)Uiich of the young flexible switches was tied evenly around 
a smooth sapling handle. These sweepers did very good 
work on dirt floor cabins. Later we made brooms in this 
way: 

A freshly cut, round, hickory stick about five feet long 
and four inches in diameter was selected. Beginning at 
one end, a uniform row of shavings about a foot backward 
was made encircling the stick. The ribbon-shavings were 
tied back to the handle-end to permit work on the next row. 
The process was continued until the stick diminished to an 
inch indiameter. The remnant of stick then was cut off 
close to where the shaving work terminated. 

The shaved strips then were untied, turned downward, 
loosely fastened, and the shaving process was begun eight- 
een inches above the point where the other cutting ended, 
A row of ribbons encircling the stick was made and tied 
down over the first bunch. Another and another row fol- 
lowed and all were turned downward and securely fastened 
with buckskin thongs. 

The remaining long end of the stick was dressed down 
to the size for a handle. These brooms lasted for two or 
three months. The ox-yoke makers always manufactured 
the hickory-ribbon brooms as skill was required to prevent 
cutting off the shavings with the keen edged tools. 

When raising broom-corn, and it was yet in the field, 
about eighteen inches to two feet at the top of each stalk 
was broken over so the heavy seed-head cured well and 
kept the broom-fibre even and straight. When ready for 
use the heads were pulled over a board through several sets 
of teeth to remove the seeds, and the fibres then were shaped 
into round bunches on the handle. 



HOME MANUFACTURE 203 

Bullet Moulding. 



■C5* 



One of the staple commodities which always was 
brought from the supply stations, Dubuque, Des Moines 
and Iowa City, and deemed quite as important as bread- 
stuffs was the pig lead from which bullets were moulded. 
This work was an every evening arrangement for the men- 
folk. 

The lead was cut into small pieces and placed in the 
hand-made, steel fire-shovel which rested on a bed of glow- 
ing coals. When the lead melted it was poured into the 
bullet-molds. Only one leaden sphere could be molded 
at a time and the iron jaws of the molds were opened to 
release each bullet as it cooled. 

Father always used the first "run" of lead which was 
without foreign substances, and he "necked" his own sup- 
ply. Special care was necessary in trimming the surplus 
lead which adhered to the bullet in the lips of the molds. 
Defective molding or uneven trimming meant possible loss 
of game and a waste of ammunition. 

The working surface for bullet-molding was a good- 
sized, clean, smooth stone. Overflow from pouring the 
melted lead and the bullet trimmings could be recovered 
from the stone with the minimum of dirt or refuse that 
would have been gathered if the work had been done on 
the hearth-surface. 

The curiosity of children never was satisfied until they 
had burned their fingers handling the shining, silvery-look- 
ing balls before they were cool. 

Greasing bullet-patchin' also received careful attention. 
The corners were rounded from the inch square-cut factory 
and held between the thumb and forefinger. The fingers 
of the opposite hand were rubbed very lightly over a hunk 
of mutton or venison tallow and the grease worked care- 
fully into the patchin'. These discs were strung on threads 
ready for use. Ramming a bullet was made easier with the 
prepared patches, and swabbing the gun-barrel was not so 
often necessary. 



204 REMINISCENCES OP NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Basket Making. 

A pleasant evening occupation for the family was bas- 
ket making. The method was about the same as that used 
today for homemade work. Small children made play- 
baskets until they could produce a salable article. Baskets 
for stable and yard use frequently were made from the 
bark of a young basswood or strips of slippery elm. 

A chunk of ashwood several feet long for the splint 
baskets was pounded with a small mallet until the growth- 
sections separated into smooth ribbon-strips. These strips 
were woven into different size and shaped baskets which 
sold from two to six bits apiece. Measuring skepes also 
were made. 

The splint chair-bottoms were made from these ash- 
ribbons. Rough rustic frames were constructed and the 
strips interlaced upon back and bottom. The chairs were 
comfortable and durable. Stools without backs were very 
serviceable. 

The material for willow-baskets was cut in the spring 
as soon as sap began to rise, say, maple-sugar season; and 
the pliable, slender sticks were peeled for the purpose. If 
the whips became dry and the bark "set," they were im- 
mersed in the creek or rolled in a blanket which was kept 
saturated with warm water until the green jackets were 
loosened. 

Willow whistles of many sizes and varied degrees of 
sound-shrillness were made by shaping the mouthpiece 
and making a notch in the upper surface. The bark sur- 
face then was pounded carefully until it could be removed 
intact from the stick. A bit of the wood was trimmed from 
the notch to the mouthpiece, the bark replaced and the noise 
maker was finished. 

Willow baskets were stronger and heavier receptacles 
than those made from ash-strips but did not command so 
high a price. The red-bark kinnikinic, a marsh-land wil- 
low, occasionally was used for small baskets. Smokers 
often supplied their pipes with the dried kinic bark or 



HOME MANUFACTURE 205 

leaves. It was said to possess the tonic properties of qui- 
nine, but our men folk did not smoke. 

Side baskets for light carrying were made to be 
strapped across a horse's back and depend from either side. 
A baby could be carried in one of these baskets on a vis- 
iting trip on horseback. The fireplace basket was for the 
newly born baby, and with its contents was disposed in a 
slanting position where the heat was moderate. 

A "hulk" of a "youngun" was sentenced to sit beside 
the baby basket to see that the popping, flying sparks did 
not fall on the inflammable swaddling clothes. Whatever 
may be said of pioneer children they at least knew enough 
to keep out of the fire. They did not, however, always 
come in when it rained. 

Ox Yokes. 

My brothers were quite dextrous in shaping and finish- 
ing hickory ax-handles, plough-beams and ox-yokes for 
local demand and for sale in Des Moines. 

The hard-maple cuts for yokes were chosen, roughly 
blocked with an ax, and placed on the overhead cabin- 
beams to season. The nicety of shaping and finishing was 
done with the draw-shave and bowie-knives. 

The bows to encircle the animals' necks from the top 
downward, were fashioned from hickory saplings. While 
green and pliable they were bent into U-shape, tied securely 
and left to dry and set. The hard maple yoke was fitted 
to the necks of the oxen and four holes were burned through 
the wood with a red-hot iron at points which would be close 
to the beasts' necks. The ends of the hickory bows were 
inserted in the holes and fastened on the upper surface of 
the yoke with a wooden key — a peg put through a small 
hole in the bow. 

An iron bolt through the center of the yoke with a ring 
on the under surface furnished an attaching place for the 
end of the wagon or cart tongue. A log chain also was fas- 
tened at the center-bolt and extended backward and was 



206 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

knotted about the wagon-hounds. No pioneer teamster ever 
began operations without providing himself with one or 
more log chains. 

No leather harness for oxen was necessary. The direc- 
tion of travel was indicated by the driver who walked on 
the left side and shouted "gee" or "haw." The speed was 
regulated by cracking the whip or by the use of an immense 
ox-goad. Many teamsters became very accurate in the use 
of the long-lashed whip with buckskin cracker. The thin 
whip-lash would writhe and hiss smartly through the air 
when disciplining a refractory ox, and at the proper yank 
would pop like a pistol either at the "off" ear of the leader, 
the "nigh" flank of the wheel-ox, or at any other part of the 
animal's anatomy which the driver desired to strike. John 
Lyon excelled as a whip cracker. His gad lash warned of 
his approach. 

Two to five yokes of oxen were worked together. A 
number of our pioneer prairie-breakers used teams of 
bulls. Consideration for training a team of steers to the 
yoke-wise habit was their services for the season free to 
the breaker. 

Yoke Turners. 

The yoke-turning team of oxen was an exasperating 
pair. When the old-fashioned twenty-two inch breaking 
plow was turning under the hazel brush and shearing off 
the saplings, the plow-point often would strike a resistable 
root or stone; this was the yoke-turners' signal. Simulta- 
neously the critters put noses together, ducked their heads 
to the ground, and at the same instant threw their bodies 
apart. This performance completely reversed the neck- 
piece and caused more or less delay. The ox-driver con- 
sidered himself very fortunate if no appliances were bro- 
ken and no runaways resulted from the yoke-turning epi- 
sode. 

Two of our ox-teams — Buck and Bright and Nig and 
Toddy — were greatly prized by the family. The latter 



HOME MANUFACTURE 207 

yoke, some years later, became the property of Walt Wil- 
son and served well in the work of development for our 
city. 

In this day of fleet horses, fast automobiles and flying 
machines the spectacle of a pair of oxen running away 
would be unique but this was a frequent diversion for 
us. Buck and Bright, as well as Brindle and Spot, in- 
dulged their speeding inclinations at every opportunity. 
There were, however, no dangerous barbed-wire fences, no 
lawns to trample and no timid women to frighten; so the 
frisky bovines were permitted to make their hasty run and 
return at leisure which they usually did in the evening. 

Occasionally trace or tongue-chains became entangled 
in fences or brush obstructions and the critters were held 
until released by a searching party. Our oxen, as well as 
our cows, were accustomed to answer our calls and we had 
little difficulty in locating them at any time if they were 
within hearing distance. It was not unusual for any critter 
in distress to indicate the fact by continuous bawling until 
relief arrived. 

Ulis Briggs and Charles Biernatzki, farmer neighbors 
south of town some years later, owned teams of runaway 
oxen, but so far as I know, no one ever was hurt as a result 
of their unusual activities. 

Sled-Bents. 

Sled-bents from which runners were fashioned were 
found during our first winter on the Boone. These bents 
were good-sized saplings which had grown with the regular 
sled-runner curve resembling the letter "J." If two bents 
could not be found exactly alike, a large one was split into 
two pieces and the edges dressed smooth. The length could 
be six, eight or ten feet as desired. Upright hickory-pin 
supports at the rear and center of the runners, the same 
height as the curved front ends, were fastened to the pole 
side-frames. When cross-stays, slab-bed and side-stakes 
were put in place we had a -very useful and durable sled. 



208 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Jack Brewer found a freak sled-bent soon after our 
arrival. Six feet from the gradual curve necessary for the 
nose of the runner, the sapling had grown at right angles. 
The two curves formed strong, solid, natural supports after 
the bent had been split carefully. 

Plow beams, likewise, were fashioned from a stick of 
wood with the natural, necessary curve. All wagon tongues 
were home-made for more than a generation, although 
tongues were not always used in the early work with ox 
teams. Binding poles and reaches were long, slender, 
smooth, pealed saplings. Emergency cart wheels often were 
cross-cut sections from large tree trunks. 

Maul heads were made from the large, gnarly, twisted 
protuberances which frequently were found growing from 
trunks of trees. The larger the knot the better the maul. 
The tree was cut and the knotty section hewn out and 
shaped. No steel edge-rings were needed to prevent split- 
ting or flattening. The material was almost as hard as 
iron and outlasted a dozen straight-grained mallets. Rube 
Bennett was an expert at maul making. 

The Old Grindstone. 

It was immediately necessary after locating to "gear 
up" the grindstone for the daily care of axes, grub-hoes, 
scythes and other tools. 

A temporary device was the sawbuck frame but it was 
too wobbly for good work and too low for ease in turning. 
We then set a crotched post in the ground near a tree which 
had a limb at the same height. The grooves were made 
as smooth as possible, the free end of the shaft was laid in 
the tree-crotch, and the handle-end placed in the post- 
crotch. Cleats were fastened above the shaft on the sup- 
ports and wooden pins kept the machinery in place. 

Later we prepared a permanent and absolutely solid 
grindstone frame. The six-foot section of a very large log 
was dragged into the dooryard and stripped of its bark. 
On the upper surface about two feet from one end, an out- 



HOME MANUFACTURE 



209 




210 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

line six or more inches wide and, say, two feet long was 
made. The material inside the outline was adzed, chipped 
or burned out as in canoe work, until there was formed a 
half-circle groove toward the heart of the log, which had a 
depth of more than half the diameter of the disc and wide 
enough to permit the easy movement of the grindstone when 
hung therein. 

Two auger holes, one on either side, were bored at right 
angles from the center of the groove for the grindstone 
shaft. With the disc evenly poised on its support, the lost 
motion reduced at the crank, the bearings soaped and the 
groove under the stone supplied with water we had an excel- 
lent sharpening machine; and no doubt any grindstone 
turner will aver that the man who sat a-straddle of the log 
and held the implement was the one who put the "aige" 
on it. 

It was many years before the belt and treadle appli- 
ances came into use, by which time the insistent need for 
them was greatly reduced. 

Footwear. 

Father made the shoes worn by the older members of 
the family for several seasons. The exchange of untanned 
deer or elkskins for the tanned cowhides which he used in 
his heavier work was made in Des Moines. We were re- 
quired to step flat-footed on a block of leather. This was 
folded upward on both sides of the ankle and roughly 
shaped to the foot. There was a seam in front and one 
behind sewed with waxed, tow thread. For cold weather 
an extra layer of leather was fastened to this moccasin-bot- 
tomed shoe for protection. 

The moccasins and lighter foot-coverings for the 
smaller children were made by mother. The materials 
used were raw or home-tanned buckskins, or heavy jeans 
cloth. Often a mink skin, fur inside, as stretched for mar- 
ket was cut crosswise into two pieces, one piece for either 
foot. Short slits lengthwise were made for shoe-mouths. 



HOME MANUFACTURE 211 

The toes and heels were shaped and stitched on the outside, 
and buckskin thong-laces finished these warm winter shoes. 

When boots came into common use the strenuous life 
of boys and young men began. Two sizes too small repre- 
sented the average boot purchase. The struggle and dis- 
tress of "getting on" the red-topped, copper-toed footwear 
in a family of four or five boys was painful in the extreme. 
They sat down and strained at the side-straps; if these 
pulled off, a hole — the size for inserting the middle finger — 
was cut in the boot-leg. They stood up and viciously kicked 
the foundation log or stamped frantically on the puncheon 
floor. Occasionally they gave it up and walked about with 
heel resting on the boot-counter. Sometimes pap or mam 
took pity on the poor sufferers and placed their bulk and 
strength behind the victim, reached forward, grasped the 
straps and staid: "Straighten your leg and push." 

Well, if flesh could be puckered, pleated and pressed 
sufficiently the deed was done, and the acuteness of the pain 
of compression was matched only by the dread of undress- 
ing the feet. 

Our family was the possessor of a brace of bootjacks. 
One short-shanked forked stick fastened to the foundation- 
log and one long-shanked fork. The boot-heel was placed 
in the jack on the wall and the other jack held in the hands 
and pressed against the boot-toe. After vigorous effort the 
vise released its grip. The boot was off; and as the blood 
finally flowed into the benumbed extremities there was a 
mournful period of "wailing and gnashing of teeth," and 
the boys were glad to slip their aching feet into hand-made, 
fur-lined house-slippers which had been fashioned at one 
sitting. 

Two muskrat skins for this purpose were slit half way 
down the belly toward the nose. The feet were thrust in- 
side; the extra length folded against the back of the heel 
and a rawhide or buckskin thong was tied around the ankle. 

The disposition to remove boots seemed to afflict all the 
boys at once. Only one at a time could use the mechanical 
appliance so the "human bootjack" was pressed into serv- 



212 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

ice. One boy stood behind the other with hands against 
the shoulders of the one in front. The foot of the rear lad 
was thrust between the legs and grasped in the hands of 
the boy ahead of him, and the pulling, hauling and hipity- 
hopping about the house ought to have developed the acro- 
batic proclivities of the youngsters. If the two performers 
were unable to accomplish their task a third party grasped 
the rear boy around the waist and their combined strength 
finally liberated the prisoner. 

These exhibitions by the boys often were duplicated 
by the more dignified grown-ups. Foot-pinching, however, 
was not monopolized by the male members of the family. 
I remember that during my own wedding ceremony my 
feet were so excruciatingly painful I think I neglected to 
give an affirmative to the query embodied in the love, 
honor and obey clause. 

A neighbor tells the story that his Sunday-go-to-meetin' 
boots were so tight he scarcely could get them on, and to 
remove them was an evening's job. He was making the 
regular weekly visit at the home of his intended wife. A 
heavy rain came up, and he was compelled to remain over 
night. Not wishing to "show off" in the presence of the 
family and the girl of his choice by attempting the diffi- 
cult task of boot-pulling, he climbed the ladder to the loft 
where he was to sleep. He sat down on the bunk and 
nursed his aching feet. Realizing it would be imprudent 
to stumble about on the loosely lain attic floor-boards try- 
ing to separate his feet from the boots, he stoically and 
heroically decided he must sleep with them on; so he 
loosened his trousers' band, turning the legs wrong side out, 
down over his boots, and the bedding therefore was not 
soiled with boot-grease. 

Another neighbor declares that when young he made a 
long journey a-foot, to visit his best girl. He pulled his 
boots at the regular family boot-pulling contest, in the eve- 
ning. The next day he walked home barefooted, as he 
could not compress his swollen feet into the "cow-hides." 
His next visit was made in an ox-cart. 



CHAPTER X\. 

Unusual Weather Conditions. 

The storms of early years were frequent and severe, but 
pioneers seemed to expect intense severity from nature 
and they were not disappointed. It was necessary to travel, 
perform work and procure food and they stoically accepted 
the situation. 

Illinois Reports. 

I have no fantastic stories to relate which will match 
the one recorded of the early '40's, in the "Annuals of Illi- 
nois." It is reported that the drop in temperature was so 
sudden that the water-fowl were frozen in the streams. Illi- 
nois also leads us in hail storms. A pioneer writer records 
that in the '50's, during the latter part of June, a hail storm 
occurred which covered the ground to the depth of a foot, 
the drifts of which persisted until after the Fourth of July. 
There are, however, many persons now living (1921) who 
remember the terrific winter of '56 and '57, when the bliz- 
zards swept northwestern Iowa from late October until the 
return of spring loosened their gelid grip and poured forth 
the disastrous floods of May. 

Locations. 

The shrieking winds and snowy wastes of winter were 
deemed far more dangerous than the elemental strife of 
summer or the floods of milder weather. The pioneer's life 
often depended upon the accuracy of location and resource- 
fulness in caring for himself. Caution was necessary at all 
times. The sun and stars were dependable guides. When 
these were obscured camps were located and hunting par- 
ties stationed sentinels to keep clear the north and south 



214 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

direction, or some natural object at camp was marked as 
an indicator. 

Wet and Inclement Periods. 

An occasional good or bad "spell o' weather" — usually 
bad — brings out the old settlers' stories of severe storms 
and inclement weather in the "airly" days. 

I remember that in addition to the mild winter of 1848 
and 1849, the spring weather was balmy and delightful. 
Father and Bob Palmer made a trip to Des Moines in the 
month of March, the year following our arival. They cov- 
ered a part of the distance barefooted and minus their 
coats. 

No early spring freshet accompanied the going out of 
the ice. There had been very little snow and the light 
rains had settled into the soil. Father was jubilant over 
the weather and crop prospects and declared he had made 
no mistake in locating on the Boone river, in Iowa; nor did 
the subsequent bad seasons' experiences cause him to regret 
the change from the East to the West. 

The wet season of 1851 was not an encouraging one. 
Floods resulting from melting snows were augmented by 
copious rains at ice-passing time and from early May until 
late July the earth was inundated. The biblical downpour 
of forty days and nights was exceeded and extended to 
seventy days; although the hilltops were not covered with 
water, the lowlands certainly were. 

No crops, except turnips, were raised. Sickness pre- 
vailed not only in our own family and neighborhood but 
in the settlements scattered about the country. The state 
exchequer subsided to the small balance of less than one 
dollar and fifty cents, and for many months our money- 
pouch was unfamiliar with coin. 

Iowa was classed as a swamp-land state. For many 
years not a foot of drainage tile was placed. She now has 
thousands of tons of tile in position, hundreds of miles of 
private tile-drainage and immense dredge-ditches intersect 



UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS 215 

the state. With these methods of eliminating moisture the 
wet season of 1915 produced but half a crop of com; so 
the predicament of the pioneers over sixty years ago may 
well be viewed as tragical. 

The season of 1858 was a serious one for the settlers. 
I mention this year, not because it was so much worse than 
some others, but because more residents remember the con- 
ditions and because it marked an epoch in my life — mar- 
riage. The worst floods came after seeding-time. Farm 
lands were submerged, the seed which had been planted 
was sacrificed and no more could be obtained. The finan- 
cial panic also was in active operation; but even this dreary 
outlook did not serve to deter a wedding ceremony in our 
family and Sarah Brewer became Mrs. Thomas Bone- 
bright by the official authority of Judge J. D. Maxwell. 

Various accounts of the crop of 1858 are related by the 
residents. Alfred Moore asserts that his crop of com on 
forty acres was one wagon bed full of nubbins which sold 
for just enough money to buy the material for a pair of 
jeans trousers. His oats crop brought the same price and 
paid for the making of the britches. 

The last story teller carries off the palm. Frank Mason 
discounted Moore by laughingly relating that he raised a 
crop of but three ears of corn, one large ear and two little 
nubbins. The rent was to be one-third of the crop so the 
landlord exacted the big ear of corn. The story, of course, 
was told to accentuate the thriftiness of the landowner 
whom everybody recognized. 

Big Game Migration. 

The terrific snows and intensity of the cold weather of 
1852 and 1853 made travel almost impossible. The severe 
winds and storms from the northwest forced the big game 
southward. At frequent intervals during the winter great 
droves of elk and deer were seen making their way through 
the mountains of snow along the river east of town. Hunt- 
ers did not molest them except when necessity compelled. 



216 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

I he difficulty of procuring other food, however, made our 
menu for many a day to list exclusively: 

Breakfast — Fried or stewed venison. 

Dinner — Stewed or fried venison. 

Supper — Warmed-over or jerked venison. 

The migrating deer herds were followed by the wolf- 
packs. They killed and feasted upon the carcasses of the 
injured or exhausted animals that dropped behind the 
moving drove. 

Hazel-brush, bramble-thickets and saplings along the 
path of the moving animals were browsed to the ground 
or to the snow's surface, and good sized trees were limbed 
and barked by the hungry, herbivorous beasts. Big game 
[lerds never were so numerous in this section after 1853, 
although there are various portly accounts of deer-killings 
subsequent to that time. 

The winter closed down early and persisted until the 
icy floods of April. Snow covered the highest fences. To 
make an estimate of its depth would be to court member- 
ship in the Ananias club. A howling blizzard of a week's 
duration swept over our section, the severity of which far 
outclassed the one or two days' storms of recent years. The 
fall of snow at this time was not heavy but the wind blew 
a gale and found its way into every crevice. 

We scarcely had recovered from this "cold-snap" when 
another siege was upon us. Snow, snow everywhere, and 
the supply seemed inexhaustible. For a solid week we 
were confined to the cabin; and it was necessary to use a 
guide-rope in making a trip to and from the stable. One 
end of a hempen-line was fastened to the doorsill and the 
other end held by my brother as he laboriously made his 
way to the stock-shelter. He secured the rope to the shed 
corner and the hand-over-hand method furnished safe guid- 
ance between the buildings. 

The rigorous winter weather was forgotten, however, 
in the greater inconvenience and dangers of the spring 
breaking-up. Travel for any considerable distance was un- 



UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS 



217 



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^r'^ 


i^ ^^^ ^ : .' .. ^^^^-^ ^ ! - '" \r ^ A. '■ 


^B 






:i : ''*^-«,# .-- 


H 




■ 


R--' i a;- "-■ 



218 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

thinkable. Families were put on half rations and a system 
of grinding economy practiced for many weeks. 

The season of the Spirit Lake trouble has been de- 
scribed by many historians. The weather was very severe 
and the roads almost impassable but the same condition 
was experienced many times during the early years. 
Storms were usually about the same, but such an incident 
as being pursued by Indians served to impress upon our 
minds the large surroundings and accentuate the small and 
local happenings. 

The regular teamsters to Des Moines, Dubuque and 
Iowa City, one of whom, Tom Bonebright — the head of 
our family — experienced serious difficulties in making win- 
ter trips through the Iowa snow-fields. During the spring- 
time the regular teaming work was abandoned on account 
of the unfordable streams and impassable condition of the 
roads. Mr. Bonebright was one of the volunteers who 
enlisted at the call for assistance at Spirit Lake. His name, 
with those of the other members of the relief expedition is 
inscribed on the memorial tablet in the Hamilton county 
court house. 

It frequently happened that heavy snow storms caught 
cattle away from shelter and the critters perished in the 
cold. Uncle Peter Lyon, at one time, lost several of his 
young cattle in that way. They sought relief from the soft, 
clinging snow-blizzard at a protected spot in a bend of the 
White Fox creek. The change from mild to freezing 
weather blinded and stiffened the stock and they were 
unable to reach home. It would have meant almost certain 
loss of human life to have instituted search for them. 

Our family lost numbers of sheep in blizzards but with 
windbreaks about the woods-pastures our cattle always 
pulled through, although no doubt, with difficulty. Liter- 
ally, we "kept the pigs in the parlor" through the intensely 
cold spells of the early seasons. The young calves, lambs 
or pigs were brought into the house and warmed at the fire- 
place and the best conditioned of them put through the trap- 



UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS 219 

door into the truck-hole beneath the floor. Here they were 
comfortable on a bed of hay. 

Wood-cutters and hunters suff'ered severely during 
storm sieges; but upon the success of their efforts in obtain- 
ing food and fuel depended the welfare of their families 
and themselves. The question may be asked: "Why were 
not supplies of game and wood provided early in the sea- 
son?" The answer is easy. To have done so would have 
meant the neglect of all other work. One who never has 
chopped wood for a five-foot fireplace cannot realize its 
consuming capacity when high winds and cold weather pre- 
vailed. An enlarged dooryard would have been necessary 
had we sought to store a winter's supply of wood. 

Home facilities for preserving and storing food were 
none too efficient. We prepared quantities of jerked and 
dried venison, but without a constant fresh supply the re- 
serve would have lasted but a short time. Continuous and 
often strenuous activity on the part of hunters was required 
to furnish game for families of from eight to fourteen 
members. There was no corner grocery to supply a defi- 
ciency of cooking material and we could not borrow from 
neighbors who, for the time being, were quite as poverty 
stricken as we. 

Near Freezing. 

Hez. Van Dorn and Roll Brewer, accompanied by 
father, made a trip to Eagle creek for big game, and on the 
way had bagged several fine animals. The early part of 
the second day the temperature had been near the thawing 
point with a clinging snow falling. The weather changed 
suddenly and gave promise of such severity the party de- 
cided to return home. 

They had not collected camp fuel on account of the 
mild weather so they knew with the usual storm siege they 
could not keep up a continuous fire. It meant freeze to 
death in camp, or perhaps, freeze to death on the return 
way. The three men decided to take a chance on the latter. 



220 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Traveling became very laborious after a few miles had 
been covered, and to add to the delay and discomfort the 
ice gave way as the hunters were crossing the creek. The 
team and wagon were dropped into the water more than 
three feet deep and the wagon hammer went to the bottom 
of the stream. The broken ice at length was cleared away 
and the team released. The hammer was recovered with 
the use of a hoe-shaped stick and the journey resumed. 

The drop in temperature was rapid. The wet clothing 
of the hunters formed an icy armor about them. They be- 
came so stiffened with cold that no attempt was made to 
shoot game on the way home. 

Two herds of elk passed them along the fringe of tim- 
ber skirting the river but the animals were more intent on 
seeking protection from the storm than in trying to escape 
from the human enemy. At various points other droves 
had corraled in a sheltered bend or timbered curve. The 
bunches of from sixty to a hundred and fifty animals 
rounded themselves up into a compact mass, the whole body 
constantly moving about the circle but keeping within the 
contracted space for warmth and protection. From a short 
distance the horns of the large herds reminded one of a 
forest of small trees. 

Frequent stops were made to loosen the frozen coating 
which formed over the noses and eyes of the team. The 
legs of the weary beasts were severely lacerated and bleed- 
ing from breaking through the icy snow-crust. Roll made 
every step of the way on foot and drove the team. Hez. 
lost his strength along with his courage. He was sure his 
fate was to freeze to death so he was wrapped in the robes 
and quilts and kept as well sheltered in the wagon-box as 
possible. Father, in his effort to save Van Dom was badly 
frozen on the breast, arms and legs. 

The party, after great discomfort, reached the hill north 
of town where Aunt Nancy Stanley then lived. Pap had 
to be lifted from the wagon and carried into the house. 
The clothing had frozen to his flesh where the garments 



UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS 221 

pressed upon him, and his movements had torn the skin in 
many places. 

The half-barrel tanning-vat was half-filled with water 
from the spring. Father was placed in the vat and cold 
water poured over his head and the upper portion of his 
body. As the frost gradually drew out a coating of ice 
formed over the frozen parts of his anatomy. The water- 
cure was continued until the icy coat melted, after which 
he was undressed carefully, given a "horn" of whisky and 
put to bed. 

Father suffered some inconvenience from the experi- 
ence but often asserted that his limbs — if not his life — 
were saved by the simple but severe treatment. Van Dorn 
escaped with a frozen nose and ear. Roll says this trip 
was the longest ten miles he ever traveled. 

Death by Freezing. 

Soon after the arrival of the Downings one of the fam- 
ily lost his life while hunting near the head waters of the 
Boone. My father and Bob Downing, in a liesurely trip, 
had followed the river northward into Hancock county. 
They pitched their tents, trailed game through the day and 
returned to camp at nightfall. The weather had been 
squally— cloudy, spitting snow, clearing and clouding 
again. Toward sunset, while they were some miles from 
camp, the sky became lightly overcast and the directions 
were confused by Downing. Father said: 

"Bob, it would be a mighty good evening for tracking, 
but I'm tired ; maybe we'd better turn around and pull into 
camp." 

"Turn around!" laughed Bob. "Well, we're headed 
straight for camp now. The treats are on you, Wils, for 
you're on the wrong trail." 

"Not much," replied father; "I never was lost before, 
and Fm not lost now. If you think our camp is in front 
of us, it's vou who are lost; and I'll stake my life on my 
accuracy of location." 



222 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

"All right," returned Bob, "I'm as sure of my location 
as you are of yours, so you can take your chance and I'll 
take mine, and we'll talk it over tomorrow." 

They jokingly parted company. My father, retracing 
his steps, reached camp in safety but Downing did not 
return. 

Unfortunately a "skift" of snow fell during the night 
effectually obliterating the footprints of the wandering 
hunter, and although father persevered in the lonely search 
for several days the snow-mantled prairies and the im- 
mensity of space to be covered precluded the possibility of 
finding his comrade and the search was reluctantly aban- 
doned. 

We hoped for many weeks, for a report that Downing 
had located a hunter's camp or had been picked up by a 
band of Indians, but the report did not come. A few sea- 
sons later some human bones, a number of brass buttons, 
powder-flask, bullet-bottle and a gun with weather-worn 
stock were found beneath a lone tree on the bank of the 
Boone. The conviction that Downing had been frozen to 
death was confirmed. 

Death by Freezing. 

Peter Lyon, Major Brassfield, Jim Jenkins and Wils' 
Brewer formed a party for a holiday hunt in 1852. A 
storm compelled them to go into camp on White Fox creek 
a few miles north of town. Hoping that the blizzard soon 
would pass the hunters did not try to return home. The 
day had yielded little in the way of game supply. The 
weather was not yet severe, so Jenkins shouldered his mus- 
ket and said he would circle through the woods and bag 
,some birds for breakfast. The men in camp, meanwhile, 
busied themselves collecting firewood and placing poles 
and brush against the creek's bank for protection. 

The storm soon began in earnest and a three days' 
siege was on. At nightfall Jenkins had not returned and 
the howling blasts of the blizzard sweeping about their shel- 



UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS 223 

ler accentuated the heart-chilling anxiety of his waiting 
comrades who were powerless to lend him aid. They qui- 
eted their fears somewhat with the thought that he might 
have found shelter in some natural nook or followed the 
creek and river trail back to his home. 

As soon as the storm abated the three men broke camp. 
Ascertaining that Jenkins had not reached home a search- 
ing party was organized. More than a foot of snow had 
fallen, and in the bottoms had drifted much deeper. This 
fact made the outcome of the search seem obvious before 
it was begun. 

The blanket of white remained on the ground through- 
out the winter. The following spring a partly dismem- 
bered human skelteton, the sundered musket-stock and bar- 
rel and the bones of a wolf were found about a mile from 
where the men had camped. Jenkins must have been be- 
wildered by the storm and benumbed with cold when he was 
attacked and devoured by wolves. 

Blizzard. 

A hunting and trapping party composed of Jack Frakes, 
George Wilcox, Hez Van Dorn and Roll Brewer traversed 
Hamilton, Humboldt, Palo Alto and Emmet counties in 
'56, seeking the rapidly disappearing game. The boys 
left home soon after election and planned to return before 
Christmas. I mention this late expedition because it was 
the season of my father's death. 

They had met with scant success and decided to strike 
for Big Island grove in Emmet county. The snow was 
heavy on the ground and the early part of the trip had been 
stormy. The farther north they went the deeper became 
the snow. The last week of the up trip the weather was 
fine, but traveling was tedious and provisions had dwindled 
to one ration daily. 

They reached the lake and found ideal conditions for 
trapping. Shelter was prepared and two of the party — 
Roll and George — were to take the trail for the Irish settle- 



224 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

ment, about a day's travel to the southeast, for supplies, 
being familiar with the uncertainty of Iowa weather it was 
agreed that if a storm arose within twenty-four hours tha 
two men m camp must look out for themselves. The otiier 
two would not attempt to return. The boys set forth on 
the trip amid the glories of a winter's sunset. Scarcely had 
the stars appeared before the clouds obscured them and 
the air became a sheet of white torn into a million frag- 
ments by the piercing, screaming blizzard. 

Marking the direction of the wind and assuming that 
it would hold its course long enough for them to reach their 
destination, they pressed on. Late at night fatigue and 
freezing weather forced them to stop. A hole was dug into 
the side of a huge snowdrift for shelter. Fearing a pos- 
sible shift of the wind and consequent bewilderment Roll 
and George — in order to keep their bearings — set stakes 
and alternately beat a north and south sentry track through- 
out the night. At daybreak, accurately having reckoned 
their directions, they journeyed onward and late at night 
reached the friendly shelter. 

Frakes and Van Dorn, at Big Island, grew uneasy and 
became quite anxious to make the acquaintance of the 
Hibernian pioneers. In the morning they packed their 
trapping equipment into the wagon-box to be left behind. 
Jack took the lead afoot. Hez mounted one horse and led 
the other. At intervals the guide and follower changed 
places. After severe suffering they reached the settlement 
several hours after the walkers had arrived. 

The storm continued for five days and was one of the 
most terrific ever experienced in northern Iowa. The four 
hunters reached home a few days before father's death in 
December. George Wilcox, relating the experience, declared 
"It was luck instead of good sense that saved us." 

Pioneer trappers preferred walking to riding. They 
could keep warmer, make better time — especially in deep 
snow — and the chances of becoming lost were lessened by 
traveling afoot. Many teamsters walked beside their 
horses after roads were well established. 



UNUSUAL WEATHER CONDITIONS 225 

The company outfit of traps, harness and furs which 
the boys had left at Big Island was not recovered until 
the following spring when Roll and Tom Bonebright made 
the trip to bring them home. They arrived at their des- 
tination early in the evening and were busily gathering 
wood for a camp-fire near the fringe of brush which 
skirted the lake. A large cow elk came slowly into the 
open and challenged their marksmanship. Tom fired and 
wounded but did not kill her. Taking the trail into the under 
brush they followed and found her dying at the hiding 
place of a recently dropped calf. The beautiful newly- 
born creature was not in the least afraid. He licked the 
hands of the men and followed them like a dog. They 
decided to take the little creature home with them, captive, 
but during the night he wandered out of sight and his trail 
could not be found. For the perpetuation of the species 
nature very wisely provides that until several weeks old a 
deer or elk gives off no scent which the olfactories of a dog 
can follow. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



Medicinal Preparations. 

The willingness of neighbors to attend the advent of 
infants and to prescribe for the many cases of fever and 
"ager," whooping-cough and itch threatened to keep doc- 
tors' profits at a low ebb; but the M. D.'s doubtless were 
far-sighted and philosophical, as the settlers' solicitude 
for the suffering was matched by the industrious — if unin- 
tentional — methods of distributmg diseases in general, and 
the itch in particular. No one escaped its sociability. 
Like the militant mother-in-law it made periodical inva- 
sions and was a most exacting, disagreeable and unwelcome 
guest. A guest that did not depart until personal house- 
cleaning was accomplished. 

A lotion prepared from the roots of skunk-cabbage was 
used for the itch, and generous doses of sulphur and mo- 
lasses were administered to the victim who had "ketched" 
it. Later a salve containing red precipitate cleared the 
skin. 

One of the recurring and painful juvenile afflictions was 
the ground-itch. We all went barefooted through the sum- 
mer season and the cracks which opened on the under side 
of the toes often seemed to threaten the loss of pedal pha- 
langes. As usual, the remedy was worse than the disease. 
A greased woolen string, just heavy enough to fill the raw, 
inflamed and bleeding crack, was tied around the toe and 
worn until nature came to our relief with healing. 

Our powers of resistance and recuperation certainly 
were phenomenal. When we consider the concentrated 
daily diet of corn dodger with a dressing so greasy that 
the children of today would reject it before tasting; when 
we reflect that this starchy dodger often was immersed in 
a plateful of maple-syrup or cane-molasses; and for a 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 227 

change, buckwheat biscuit prepared without soda and 
spread over with wild honey in the comb ; when we contem- 
plate these flirtations with the demon of indigestion, it is 
quite wonderful that children lived to maturity, or that 
elderly people grew aged. 

Meat of some sort was the pioneer's long suit and was 
eaten three times a day, between meals and for midnight 
lunch at any gathering. Workmen and hunters carried in 
their pockets a hunk of dried meat to nibble if a meal were 
missed, or in lieu of tobacco; and the small "younguns" 
were pacified with a strip of jerked venison. 

Remedies. 

The old grannies have lost their place as doctors, for 
such remedies as skunk-oil and goose-grease, sulphur and 
sorghum, rhubarb and butternut pills, boneset and burdock 
bitters, sassafras and smartwood tea, slippery-elm salve 
and plaintain poultices finally have given place to the con- 
coctions of chemistry. 

Burdock bitters was a regular spring tonic which every- 
body took whether sick or well. Various roots, herbs and 
barks were stewed until the medicinal qualities were liber- 
ated. The liquid then was drained off and mixed with 
maple-syrup and whisky; if the medicine did not kill, it 
cured. This theory was identical with the method of the 
old-time physician who prepared Hi-pop-a-lor-um and Lo- 
pop-a-hi-rum. For the former the bark of the tree was 
peeled upward and for the latter it was peeled downward; 
the effect on the patient to be that of either an emetic or 
a physic. 

Well, I at least, did not die from these inflictions; but 
I remember I once thought I was about to die from an over- 
dose of good stuff". My mother was the seventh daughter 
of a seventh daughter and, in accordance with the prevail- 
ing tradition, had gained some local celebrity as a home- 
doctor. She had been preparing the season's supply of 
butternut pills. The bark had been peeled from the tree, 



228 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

placed in a kettle, covered with water and allowed to sim- 
mer for a long time to extract its strength. This decoction 
then was strained, sweetened and boiled down to the con- 
sistency of cold molasses. In this case the contents had 
been poured out and the pot set aside. Quite as a child 
licks the churn, a brother and I licked this pot. The result 
can be imagined better than described. It is needless to 
say, however, we did not repeat the experiment. 

The List's Range of "Simples." 

The pharmacopea of the pioneer contained a long and 
complex list of alleged remedies or "simples" for the ill, 
the ailing, or the victims of accident or belligerency. 

There were animal products such as skunk oil, bulls' 
gall and castorium; vegetables for the double use of food 
and physic; fruits for preserving or distilling; herbs for 
cooking or a condiment; weeds and seeds for poultices or 
teas, with fresh or dried shrub or tree roots and barks, 
and a part, or all of them, perhaps, combined and infused 
into bitters. 

Bitters may or may not have been unpalatable. They 
usually were combined from pleasant, indifferent and dis- 
agreeable tasting ingredients, but the quantity of any might 
have been increased or diminished according to the taste of 
the person who presided at the mixing caldron. 

The winter's supply of various herbs such as water- 
pepper, pennyroyal and velvet dock, were gathered at their 
most efficient season. They were dried, tied in bundles and 
hung about the cabin walls for future use. Barks and buds 
were best if cut and prepared from shrubs or trees when 
the sap was up. 

Whisky was the base for all bitters and the vehicle for 
internal and external liquid application. It was, in fact, 
an all around remedial rejuvenator. Whisky was adminis- 
tered to the hour-old babe and to the octogenarian; it was 
taken as an eye-opener before breakfast and a victual set- 
tler after meals, an exhilarator between them, and as a 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 229 

nightcap at bedtime. The liquor may have antidoted a 
poison or slowly poisoned the patient, and either "straight" 
or as the body of bitters, whisky served in sociability as it 
did in sickness. 

The pioneers were not confined to one variety of medic- 
inal plants for listed diseases, for instance: teas made from 
the roots or seeds of burdock, the roots or leaves of plan- 
lain, from leaves of smartweed, cucumber seeds or corn 
silks, stimulated the kidneys. All were diuretic in their 
action if the right quantity and strength was administered. 

The heart was stimulated by wormwood, aniseed, fox- 
glove or dog fennel. Among the many cathartics of greater 
or less drastic action were: rhubarb, burdock and slippery- 
elm. When it was necessary to vomit a patient, either the 
tea of mustard seed, bloodroot (redroot), Indian tobacco 
(lobelia), or pokeroot was liberally swallowed. Canada 
hemp (dog bane), or Indian sage (boneset), furnished the 
dope for a feverish patient, and if the children were af- 
flicted with worms a liberal dose of salty water, or tea from 
pigweed seed or tansy was essential. Baked powdered egg 
shell or bone in sweetened water also was said to expel 
worms, and snakeroot or papoose root or tansy tea assisted 
menstruation. The former was a prime favorite with mid- 
wives, and was administered to hasten parturition. It was 
a stimulant as well as a laxative. 

Pennyroyal. 

Pennyroyal is as well known today as in pioneer times, 
although it is not so abundant in the wild state. Pepper- 
mint, spearmint, horsemint (horse-balm or stoneroot), and 
catmint still are widely used for infant, youth, adult and 
the aged. The aroma is pleasing and the stimulating prop- 
erties mild. Headache and stomachache were palliated by 
the action of peppermint and whisky, and the house cats — 
Tommy and Tabby — enjoyed good health by eating the 
leaves and rolling in a bunch of catnip. The mints were 
said to stimulate or to quiet muscular spasms and allay in- 



230 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

flammation. Bugle mint or water bugle was taken for 
coughs and as a tonic and astringent. 

Peppermint tea, a few drops of whisky and some flakes 
of the white substance from chicken droppings mixed to- 
gether were fed to a colicky, newly arrived infant, or to 
one whose skin carried a tinge of yellow. A large dose of 
the same mixture, with the addition of a pint of milk, 
served to drench a horse suffering with the colic. 

Midwives seemed to be merciless with the defenseless, 
newly born mites of humanity. They sought to save the 
child from a future attack of fits by administering a few 
drops of blood from the navel string, mixed with the moth- 
er's milk drawn before the first nursing. The infant's 
urine, likewise, was declared to be a specific for ear or eye 
trouble if dropped therein. 

Sassafras tea — the root bark — stewed in maple sap, 
furnished a spring-time beverage that was not so bad to 
take. It was supposed to thin the blood and retone the sys- 
tem after Che heavy dieting of winter. A liberal draught 
was said to relieve a sick stomach, and application was sup- 
posed to restore sore eyes. 

Indian Tobacco. 

Indiana tobacco or lobelia was a common and constant 
remedy for children as it was used for colds or coughs, 
and proved to be a good emetic for cases of croup. The 
flowers, seeds and leaves were used in preparing the med- 
icine in its various forms. Dried, powdered leaves were 
snuffed by asthmatics, or smoked as a narcotic by nervous 
patients. 

Indian hemp was largely used in bad cases of whoop- 
ing cough, for fever and ague, and for kidney stimulation. 
A preparation from the root acted as a cathartic, and in the 
right quantity was sedative — especially the oozed resin. 
The flowers possessed a soothing, almost narcotic property, 
when they were beaten into a pulp as a poultice. It also 
was an excellent spring tonic. 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 231 

Indian poke was known by its many parts as: poke- 
berry, pokeroot and pokeweed. It also was known as 
garget weed, and was used for distemper or an affection 
of the throat or "swallow" of cattle, and for a cow's caked 
bag. The plant was known to be a violent poison, but nev- 
ertheless it was used for inflammation, and the dried, pul- 
verized root was administered to the sick in doses to cause 
purging or puking by the patient. Pokepowder also was 
used on the cucumber, pumpkin and melon vines as a bug 
killer, although the need for such treatment was not so 
urgent as it is now. Poke berries were used in our dyeing 
work, as were the red berries of the sumacs. The root- 
bark tea of sumac was administered for kidney and blad- 
der troubles. 

Elderberries served in bitters, and the fresh flowers for 
sweating-tea. The dried flowers were steeped with maple 
syrup and formed the liquid body for other medicines. 
Poultices from the blossoms were said to relieve boils or 
burns. 

Bitters were not so palatable if chokecherries and the 
bark from fresh growth of the tree was omitted from the 
mixture, but the cherry action being astringent, too liberal 
a supply defeated natural tissue action and made necessary 
the counteraction of laxatives. As an alterative, cherry 
bark had a wide range. 

The Asafetida Tit. 

The preparation of home remedies might have been 
unnecessary had we been diligent in following the instruc- 
tions of the asafetida advocates. The "fetta" bag, or "asa- 
fetida tit" was credited with the property of warding off 
all diseases that were "ketchin'." Were it possible for a 
foul smell and taste to repel the attack of a morbific agent, 
I am frank to assert that the asafetida guard never could 
have been passed by the germ scouts of infection and con- 
tagion. 

A pill of "fetta" the size of a large hazelnut was placed 



232 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

in a square of factory. The corners of the cloth were 
brought together and a string tied about it in the shape of 
a tit. There was sufficient length of string to extend loosely 
around the neck of the wearer. The person seeking immu- 
nity was instructed to place the asafetida tit in the mouth 
at regular intervals, or whenever approaching a suspected 
district of disease. Children were directed to suck the 
"fetta" bag, as a pacifier, after retiring. 

When the disease was "ketched," however, the milky 
gum or solution was administered in all cases of digestive 
disorders. It would induce expectoration or act upon the 
bowels; likewise, it was a nerve sedative and anti-spas- 
modic, while a change in quantity was a stimulant. Its 
medicinal possibilities rivaled those of whisky, but the 
dose was not so easy to take. When we acquired horses, 
and the beasts "caught" distemper, asafetida was smeared 
on the bits for their relief, besides being rubbed on the 
feed boxes and a trace of it sprinkled in the ration. 

Mullein. 

A crushed, softened preparation from the well known, 
immense leaved mullein or velvet dock was thought to re- 
lieve internal fever or irritation of the skin, and was a 
mild stimulant. The cured leaves were used as tobacco by 
the Indians and a few pioneers, as was kinnekinik, men- 
tioned elsewhere. Colt's tail, called flea, or butter-root, was 
administered as leaf tea for hemorrhages. We were not 
troubled with fleas, so its use was not necessary as an 
insecticide. 

The leaves, flowers or berries of henbane were narcotic 
in their action, and poisonous to poultry and people. We 
were discreetly cautious in handling this species of night- 
shade, although it was prescribed in many cases of colic, 
whooping cough, spasms or bed wetting. 

Comfrey, called "comfort," was as its name implies, 
comfort for the wounds on which it was bound, and the 
root-tea gave comfort to the patient who was suff^ering with 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 233 

a cough. Dill tea, or the chewed seeds, quieted a restless 
or nervous patient, and furnished the cook with seasoning 
material. 

Elecampane, shortened to "eleck," not only relieved a 
troublesome stomach and lung fever by furnishing a mild 
tonic, but in addition it stimulated the infirm and senile, it 
was asserted. Red puccoon (bloodroot) also served on 
this line, as in its many others, as an alterative. The roots 
of skunk cabbage contained an active stimulating property, 
but in the narcotic quantity relieved muscular contraction 
in young and old, and was used to antidote snake venom. 

Milkweed did not appear in its present profusion until 
cultivation had considerably advanced. It was thought to 
be poisonous, but was taken as a sweater or an emetic. The 
root-juice relieved lung troubles and seemed to assist in 
clearing the throat and in making breathing easier. 

It is not to be supposed that pioneers were honing for 
trouble in addition to their material privations. They, 
however, gathered the honewort, a species of parsley which 
was esteemed as a remedy for swellings. Specifically hone- 
wort was listed to cure "hone," a swelling of the jaw or 
face. 

Camomile Tea. 

Camomile tea was a common and popular remedy. 
Sprains were almost a chronic condition among pioneers. 
As a lotion for application to a sprained member, it 
brought relief and quiet nerves. It was claimed that incip- 
ient swellings could be scattered, or the aching surface sur- 
rounding a "bile" reduced to normal by the aid of a camo- 
mile poultice. Copious draughts caused one to "throw 
up" and thereby relieved spasmodic coughing, and it also 
was tonic in action. 

Liverwort, or liverleaf, a three-lobed plant of a green- 
ish purple color, was thought to resemble the human liver, 
therefore its medicinal qualities pertaining to the liver. 
Liverwort was said to be a sure cure for "janders," and it 



234 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

also was credited with the ability to cure dog bites. Jaun- 
dice and biliousness were treated with pieplant syrup, if 
the "sure cure" failed. Moreover, liverwort was given for 
liver rot or worms in sheep, and a poultice was applied 
to foot-rot. With the development of foot-rot in our flock 
the first victim was killed and the carcass burned. If oth- 
ers became infected they were isolated, and any member 
of the family who would care for and cure them claimed 
the sheep as a reward for his ministrations. 

Saff^ron flowers always were dried during the summer 
as a forehanded measure, either for home or neighborhood 
consumption. Saffron tea assisted elimination by stimu- 
lating the flow of urine and perspiration. Likewise, it les- 
ened the periodical, physical disturbances of women, as 
did dog fennel and tansy. It also was thought to cure jaun- 
dice and skin eruptions, and was given to infants with the 
icteric skin tint. 

Boneset tea ought to have cured all the ills that man is 
heir to — or prevented them — if one were to judge by the 
constancy of its use. The climbing hempweed or Indian 
sage was bitter to the taste, and for that reason, I suppose, 
more efficacious in results. It was said to allay fevers, cor- 
rect dyspeptic conditions, stimulate the kidneys, induce 
perspiration and to have a general tonic effect on the pa- 
tient, and also was used as an emetic. 

Gentian. 

For many years bitterwort or gentian roots served our 
family as a source of revenue. They were sold in Des 
Moines or Dubuque to be shipped east. The property of 
restoring the vigor of youth, as claimed by gentian devo- 
tees, was made the butt of many homely jokes. Why should 
the goddess Aphrodite smile through gentian and not favor 
other plants? Anyway, we sold the substance that was most 
salable and took a chance on retaining virility by virtue of 
individual assurance. We, however, substituted as a tonic 
ingredient in our bitters, the spignet, or spikenard, a plant 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 235 

resembling gentian in points and properties except that the 
latter was bitter and the former spicy and aromatic. 

The additional properties claimed for spignet, as well 
as for valerian and wild sarsaparilla, its relatives, were 
stimulative and sudorific. It served as an application for 
open sores, and was administered to sick dogs. Maria 
Wiltsey would no sooner have omitted the supply of spig- 
net from her periodical "makin's" of bitters than she 
would have left the flour from her "salt raisin' " bread. 
I have known her to "work the woods" for weeks to procure 
her supply. Time and fatigue were not taken into account 
when the search for certain unseasonable herbs was being 
made. 

Poultices. 

The variety of poultices was innumerable. Many of 
them were nameless if not unnamable, and the supply was 
inexhaustible. Covering bruises, "biles" or bums with a 
soft pad of bruised plantain or liveforever leaves or 
crushed comfrey root was expected to insure immediate re- 
lief. Hop poultices were applied for almost any ailment 
or accident. Fumes from the cooked hops were pleasantly 
sedative, if not narcotic in their effect. The hop pillow 
also contributed to the quiet comfort of a patient. 

The "drawin' " poultice was not so pleasing, even to 
contemplate. A doughy mixture of crushed mustard seed 
and buckwheat flour as a counter irritant was warranted to 
produce a blister equal to the size of the poultice itself. 
This "smearum" also was entirely reliable in relieving the 
internal discomfort for which it was applied. Grease or 
cloth did not protect the poulticed surface, and when the 
sticky mass was removed from the victim's bare skin, por- 
tions of the cuticle usually were torn away, leaving a raw 
and burning space which was calculated to cause forget- 
fulness by the patient of his original affliction. 

Bruised bull thistle, nettle or horseradish leaves also 
served as active counter irritants. Thistles and nettles were 



236 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

difficult to gather, but their stings were relieved by poultices 
of sour dock leaves. When feet, legs or hands were nettle- 
stung we sought a nice, soft, sticky mudpuddle, and 
smeared the stung surface with mud. Softened clay was 
more effective, however, than mud. It stuck better and 
retained moisture longer. A coating of mud or a gob of 
chewed clay was applied to bee stings. Yes, we ate a little 
clay occasionally to satisfy our unnatural appetites, since 
at that time slate pencils and chalk were not available. An 
incantation, "Out nettle, in dock," hurried relief to the 
nettle stung patient. 

Wormwood. 

Wormwood-herb tea was taken as a tonic and as a heart 
stimulant, and was said to be a destroyer of all kinds of 
worms, either the stomach or intestinal parasites. This 
fact readily can be believed because of its bitterness and 
strength. Wormseed was the fruit of any of the goosefoot 
or pigweed family. There was no resemblance or rela- 
tionship between the wormwood and wormseed plants. The 
similarity was in the power to expel worms. It was claimed 
for wormseed, however, that it was a vermifuge for round 
worms only. Cheeseweed or mallow was of a sticky con- 
sistency when the leaves and buds were crushed, and it 
formed a soothing poultice for an inflamed surface. 
Cheeseweed received the name because of the seeds' resem- 
blance to cheese. A thick syrup from the roots was used 
as a body or vehicle in mixing other medicines. 

Sweet William tea was a popular remedy with pioneers. 
Either the vari-colored prairie or the light blue woods va- 
riety was used. They grew in such profusion that daily 
bouquets were gathered in their season, and the bunches 
then were dried for medicinal purposes. The tea was taken 
for rheumatism and a liniment from the plant leaves re- 
lieved the aching joints. Watermelon and pumpkin seed 
tea stimulated the kidneys. The ashes from hickory or 
hard maple wood mixed with water was said to thin the 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 237 

blood, while the water from boiled willow, poplar or 
prickly ash bark acted as a tonic. 

Munching Material. 

Children almost continuously were munching some of 
the dried buds, berries, barks or roots of edible plants in 
their season. Basswood buds were good eatin', and the 
inner bark of the slippery elm, when the sap was right, 
could be bitten and chewed like cheese. The spring hick- 
ory sprouts were pulled from the ground, the dirt freed 
from the tap root, which was about the solidity of a cab- 
bage-stalk heart, and they were eaten with great relish. 
When we sat about the campfire or fireplace the sweet, 
simmering sap from the ends of burning logs was collected 
on the fingers and licked off. 

Dried pieplant or dried grapes furnished an acid tart- 
ness very different from the foregoing. Dried sweet flag 
root, held in the mouth, was said to sweeten the breath. 
The supply of calamus was abundant and really would 
have been a beneficent contribution to the list if it also 
could have neutralized a disagreeable foot odor. Medic- 
inally flagroot was prescribed as a stimulant, a nerve tonic 
and to settle a sick stomach. The stomachs of children, 
however, had little need for assistance since we seemed to 
persist in the choice of unripe, instead of ripe fruits, for 
consumption. 

Had mouth, throat, skin or stomach diseases been con- 
tagious the whole family or neighborhood would have 
"ketched" them because of the careless and promiscuous 
use of household appliances, table utensils and toilet 
articles. 

Edible Herbs. 

It is possible the families of pioneers might have gone 
hungry occasionally, and it is certain they would have been 
sick oftener, but for the quantities of pot herbs consumed as 
greens, in addition to the raw fruits and roots already men- 
tioned. 



238 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Artichokes sometimes were cooked or eaten raw by our 
family, but they furnished a finer field for foraging hogs. 
Wild leeks and onions provided a strong food for man and 
beast, but when in addition they were taken second hand 
from the breath of another or from the milk of the leek- 
eating cows the double dose was sickening. Notwithstand- 
ing the strong smell of the leaves and bulb, the wild onion 
bore a beautiful, pink, sweet-smelling blossom. 

Fresh sheepsorrel and the mints were sought throughout 
their seasons and the supply of mustard, lamb's quarters, 
sour dock, horseradish, kale and purslane for greens, kept 
the pot bubbling most of the summer. Purslane, however, 
did not appear in its present abundance until cultivation 
had progressed for several seasons. I believe the dande- 
lion was not a native in these parts, but was introduced by 
a local physician as a medicinal herb or spring tonic. 

Salads were made from the leaves of many of the 
plants already named, and they were excellent, not to say 
delicious, when combined with wild peppergrass, or tame 
pepperpods, Indian cress, fresh wild cucumber pods and 
nettles or thistles. Of course, the regular salad material 
such as cabbage, cucumbers and tomatoes were supplied 
from the garden. 

Relishes and seasonings for the table were prepared 
from plants, roots or seeds. Grated horseradish roots or 
crushed mustard seeds and vinegar made palatable the 
lean venison or fat pork or served instead of butter on the 
johnnycake. Pepperworts, red pepper pods or the dried 
crushed seeds gave warmth to a mixture. Capsicum, more- 
over, became a medicinal agent as a gargle, and for neural- 
gia, rheumatism, fever and ague and dyspepsia. It also 
was administered when one had taken too much fire-water. 

Coriander seed, in addition to settling a sour stomach 
or relieving water brash, was used quite extensively in bak- 
ing, when cook stoves were used. Caraway seed served in 
the cooking and as a carminative. Dill seasoned the pickles 
and quieted the nerves. Sage leaves were placed inside the 
spitted fowl, and when made into tea, acted as a tonic, in- 



MEDICINAL PREPARATIONS 239 

duced perspiration and reduced the flow of sick water from 
the mouth — or stomach. Sage poultices were applied to an 
open sore, to a sore throat or to a caked breast and to re- 
lieve the flow of milk. 

Dried leaves of the wild ginger plant (colt's-foot), 
spiced the pumpkin butter when the boughten supply ran 
short. If one ate too much pumpkin pie, and colic or dys- 
pepsia ensued, a strong dose of ginger tea was taken. Sor- 
relworts, or the many varieties of docks were freely pre- 
pared medicinally, in addition to their use for internal 
gratification and external application, as already recorded. 

Charcoal. 

Charcoal was considered to be an excellent remedy as 
a preventive — that is, if one had a sour stomach, charcoal 
might absorb the gas and prevent indigestion, or it might 
neutralize the acids of indigestion, and prevent the final 
accumulation of poison in the system. At the first com.- 
plaint or sign of illness, therefore, a few coals from wood 
slowly burned with little air, were dropped into a cup of 
water, and the liquid was drunk by the ailing victim. Pow- 
dered charcoal was given to sick dogs if their own method 
of eating grass did not vomit and relieve them. Charcoal 
as a tooth powder was a success, and a piece of the black 
substance held in the mouth was said to sweeten the breath. 
A charcoal poultice laid on a foul-smelling sore, neutralized 
the off^ensive odor although the appearance of the affected 
surface was not improved. 

When the absorbent and deodorizing agencies of char- 
coal were inadequate and when ventilation by way of doors 
and fireplace did not suffice to neutralize house smells, the 
smudge-pot was brought into requisition. A handful of 
coff"ee, maple sugar or sulphur, whichever was most plenti- 
ful, was thrown upon the coals and another portion upon 
the heated fire-shovel, and this smoking was our method of 
fumigation. The smell of burning hair or feathers, also, 
was pretty effective in driving out smells, not to mention 
driving the family out of doors. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Charms, Signs, Other Remedies and Methods. 

The "airly day" lists of cures were littered with fan- 
tastic, not to say grotesque charms, signs and superstitions, 
one of the survivals of which is the white, left, hind rabbit 
foot of a bunny caught at midnight, in the light of the moon, 
on Friday the thirteenth, beside the grave of a friend, 
which talisman still is thought by a few persons, to preserve 
health and fend all ill luck, if a magic rigmarole be 
trustingly repeated by the holder or owner after receiving 
the instructions from one of the opposite sex. 

The thirteen at table superstition was less vital with us 
than it is today. The average number in a pioneer family 
ranged dangerously near to thirteen, and if company ar- 
rived that number was more frequently hit than missed. 
When company was to come we were warned by the oM 
gander hissing or the rooster crowing at the cabin door. If 
these monitors failed us, however, we knew that if a knife 
or fork or the dishcloth were dropped while preparing a 
meal, our numbers for the next repast would be increased. 
When the dropped cloth left a wet spot on the floor, a slat- 
tern or a slink was expected — or both. An itching right 
palm insured the handshake of a friend, the left — money. 
A burning right ear indicated favorable discussion of one's 
characteristics, the left ear — scandal. Itching sole of the 
right foot, signified a sojourn on strange soil, the left — a 
visit near home. 

There were incantations for casting the fire from a 
burned surface of the skin, and the same for drawing frost 
from frozen members. There were lingoes chanted for 
those going into danger; if the subject escaped harm it was 
the mark of favor, but if disaster overtook him the victim 
was blamed for unbelief. The howling dog was the herald 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 241 

of ill luck, illness or death, and the appearance of a black 
cat confirmed the howling premonition. The persistent and 
aggressively toned barking of wolves was a bad luck sign, 
signifying a shortage in food supplies. The cooing of wild 
pigeons close to the premises was unfavorable for matri- 
monial candidates, or for a sick individual. The fear of 
walking under ladders did not disturb us, since our one 
ladder — a puncheon center-support with shake cross-pieces 
• — was set vertically from the first floor to the loft. The 
projecting log-ends of cabin or stable were used as outside 
ladders while a pole against the trees occasionally served 
the small boys when the trunk's circumference outmeasured 
the reach of legs. 

Trouble followed close upon the victim who brought a 
garden implement into the cabin, but the entailment could 
be abated if it were taken back out from the same door and 
not carried through. Disaster traipsed at the heels of the 
careless sportsman who toted his firearm directly through 
the house. He, however, could escape the consequences of 
such heedlessness by placing the gun for a moment on its 
"crotch-stick" hanger above the door. Ill luck awaited if, 
when a journey was begun, the traveler returned for a for- 
gotten article. The gods could be propitiated, however, if 
he sat down and drunk nine swallows of water; nine drinks 
also while thinking of the person one loved best relieved tha 
spasmodic action of hiccoughs. 

Getting off on the right foot for any adventure was 
thought to be imperative to insure pleasure or profit. We 
could not observe the rule for getting out of bed on the 
right side, as the stationary beds had but one open side. 
We, however, did arrange for a north or south head for 
beds, the idea being that sleepers rested better than if the 
head were toward the east or west. The cradle of a sick 
child always was kept in line with the north and south poles, 
although we did not understand the reason for the rule. Ill 
luck superstitions carried a more direct appeal when illness 
prevailed and personal conduct was studied to prevent ad- 
ditional trouble from the careless observance of signs. 



242 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Signs. 

Believing the first sight of the new moon over the right 
or left shoulder brought good or bad luck respectively, the 
initial glimpse of the silver sickle was sought over the right 
shoulder. Failing in that, the impending evil could be 
averted, partially at least, by facing directly to the front at 
every sight of the moon during the remaining days of its 
phase. If the moon were first seen through glass, bad luck 
would ensue unless coins or amulets were turned in the 
pocket. Moon signs and wind directions were taken into 
account as auspicious or otherwise when babies were born. 
If a child happened to come into the world on Friday, lasr 
quarter of the moon and wind in the east, the fates listed 
him for a cloudy career. On the other hand, if he arrived 
on Monday, first quarter of the moon and wind in the south, 
a sunny life was apportioned. The belief was general 
among pioneers that no new piece of work should begin on 
Friday. 

Hunters' signs and superstitions were strong working 
rules and conscientiously believed. I have known hunters 
to postpone a long planned trip because of unfavorable 
luck signs or dreams that were interpreted as an unsuccess- 
ful hunt; notwithstanding, it was thought the postponement 
of any event presaged misfortune for the final venture, 
whether the event were a wood-chopping or a wedding. 

A gmi-wise sportsman cared for his weapon as he did 
for his more valuable possessions. He did not place it flat 
on the floor, he did not carry it directly through the house, 
he did not step over it, he did not blow into the muzzle, nor 
did he try out the sight and trigger action on members of 
the household, but he carefully cleaned, loaded and hung 
up the weapon as soon as he returned from using it. The 
one possession of a pioneer which he was not willing to lend 
was his gun. Razors, butcher-knives, bowie-knives or jack- 
knives made the round of the family or neighborhood, but 
guns were in a separate, special and superior class. Father 
declared that after his gun had been borrowed it took sev- 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 243 

eral days to get "Jerushy" back to the point where he was 
sure of her work. Strange to say very few pioneer women 
made regular use of the gun, ahliough nearly every one of 
them could wield the ax with precision and celerity. 

Hunters observed the new moon for position and loca- 
tion. The latter indicated warm or cold weather relatively 
with the distance north or south in the heavens, and its posi- 
tion marked the month as wet or dry. If the crescent points 
were so nearly vertical that the thong of a powder-horn 
would not hang on the lower one, the rain was pouring out 
and hunting signs were auspicious. If the points were al- 
most, or quite in a horizontal position the rain was being 
stored, and as dry weather ensued the powder-horn was 
hung up, for the time, and hunting postponed, for huntsmen 
were as positive of this working rule as woodsmen were 
sure that a season's heavy limb and leaf growth indicated 
a severe winter. 

There were various weather rules which we considered 
quite reliable. A cold winter usually followed a hot sum- 
mer, or if the latter was moderate the winter likewise was 
moderate. If, during the period of the vernal equinox, the 
general direction of wind was northwest, the summer would 
be cold and dry; a good season for small grain but bad for 
corn. If the wind at this time blew from the southeast, the 
weather would follow hot and wet; if from the southwest, 
hot and dry; or if from the northeast, cold and wet. We 
reckoned our first frost to be due six months from the time 
we heard thunder in the spring, or six weeks from the time 
the first song of the katydid was heard. When frost came 
in the dark of the moon, it was not nearly so injurious to 
vegetation as if the visitation were during the moon's early 
phase. 

The call of Bobwhite was an indication of rain. Frogs 
croaking in the daytime gave promise of the same result. 
If the sunset was clear on Friday night we expected rain 
before Monday night, and if the deluge began before seven, 
it would stop before eleven. A fairly reliable rule was: 
if Easter Sunday were rainy, we looked for a measure of 



244 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

precipitation on seven consecutive Sabbaths. The sun was 
drawing water, if ahernating dark and light streaks were 
seen converging from the horizon to the late afternoon disc, 
and rain was due within twenty-four hours, unless the wind 
held a southwest course. We observed that storms coming 
against the wind were not liable to strike us unless the wind 
shifted to the angle from which the clouds approached; and 
if the sky cleared during the night unsettled weather would 
continue. 

Amulets. 

Had the pockets of the pioneers been pilfered there 
would have been found amulets of all kinds, colors and 
consistencies, from a button to a bull's tooth, from a horn- 
tip to a coon's tail; from a "tater" to a walnut, from turtle 
shells to toe-nails, as disease immunizers and lodestars for 
good luck. The rattles from a snake's tail, when sewed 
into the headwear of the credulous, seemed to exempt the 
wearer from headaches. The rattles, when carried by field 
workers, were thought to insure luck in killing other snakes. 
As playthings, they protected the children from creeping, 
crawling or climbing varmints. A red yarn neck or toe 
string for baby scared away the hobgoblins. 

Animal's teeth, as amulets, were in high favor. Wolves' 
and squirrels' teeth were worn in clusters about the cloth- 
ing, and in pendants or circlets. A wolf's tooth was said 
to insure courage for the chase, and a squirrel's tooth con- 
ferred power to divine the future, and to interpret sinister 
or serene circumstances. A knuckle from a pig's foot was 
carried to prevent rheumatism, and a small potato was 
"packed" for the same purpose, while craw-daddies' claws 
were valued as agents for relieving stomach-ache. A dead 
spider depending from a cord about one's neck was cred- 
ited with the power of curing fever and "agre." Spider 
webs were highly esteemed as efficacious in arresting a flow 
of blood. Worn about the neck were many grotesque 
shaped pieces of buckskin or other material, upon which 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 245 

might be written a word or sentence, or perhaps the draw- 
ing of a star, animal or serpent. These amulets were treas- 
ured carefully, and if lost — bad luck ensued. Dire misfor- 
tune was expected if amulets were given to one of the same 
sex. They could be disposed of without harmful results 
if thrown over the right shoulder into running water. Peb- 
bles, almost as beautifully colored as jewels, were gathered 
and carried for pocket-pieces by pioneers, and served the 
children for marbles. The toad stone, resembling its 
namesake in shape, was worn on the belt or suspended from 
the neck to prevent the wearer from being poisoned. This 
inanimate object, however, was not so actively beneficial 
as the live toad, for he was bound upon a carbuncle to re- 
duce the inflammation and to absorb the poisonous sub- 
stances. 

Blood Stone. 

The blood stone, snake stone and mad stone were not 
worn as amulets, but served a similar purpose in their sev- 
eral lines. They respectively were listed for nosebleed, 
snakebite or dogbite. Tne blood stone was from two to 
four inches across, usually flat, or slightly concave on one 
surface. It was of a porous nature and was placed on the 
back of the patient's neck, and really was thought to be effi- 
cacious in checking nosebleed. A brass key, padded in the 
clothing over the heart, also was said to reduce epistaxis. 
Still another agent for relief from nasal hemorrhage was 
dried hog manure applied to the nostrils. Pressure on the 
upper lip, likewise, was said to secure satisfactory results 
to a patient with nosebleed. Lip-pressure was not in favor 
with children for sneezing or hiccoughing, for the louder 
and longer one could sneeze or "hickup" the better he 
liked it. 

The substance of the snake and mad stones was similar 
to the blood stone, but they were of various shapes. When 
placed over the wound, it was asserted the snake venom or 
poison of rabies would be absorbed. Faith in these stones 



246 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

did not warrant neglect in administering other remedial 
agencies. The wound either was sucked, or slit open and 
allowed to bleed freely, and a rattlesnake-plantain, snake- 
root or sour dock poultice applied, while a bumper of 
snakeweed-tea or whisky was drunk by the patient. It also 
was stated that if a snakebitten member immediately were 
thrust inside a newly killed fowl while the animal heat still 
was retained in it, the venom would be drawn from the vic- 
tim's blood. Leeches, likewise, did their best to lessen the 
distribution of poison through the patient's system, by re- 
ducing the blood supply. Perhaps the theory that: "Hair 
from the dog will cure the bite," was followed when the 
snake was stewed, and the bitten surface poulticed with 
beaten flax seed moistened with the water in which the 
reptile had been boiled. Following this principle, ear wax 
was a specific for cold sores if supplied by the patient 
whose lips were aff^ected. Eye stones were found in the 
heads of crawfish. They were of smooth, white material 
the shape and size of a small, split pea. There was a de- 
pression on the flat surface somewhat larger than a pinhead. 
When there was a foreign substance in the eye, an eye stone 
was placed therein as an assistant in attracting or expell- 
ing the intruder. A couple of flaxseed under the eyelid 
was a really practical helper in collecting foreign matter 
which had found lodgment in the eye. If these assistants 
failed, the tongue of some member of the household was 
passed over the eyeball of the patient to dislodge the irri- 
tating material. A looped hair also was effective. 

There seemed to be a general belief in the natural ani- 
mal-heat remedies. In addition to extracting poison, it was 
alleged that the newly killed fowl, when slit open and 
placed upon the abdomen of the patient, would relieves 
colic; if applied to the feet, fevers were aborted; or to the. 
head, headache was exorcised. The same line was fol- 
lowed in drawing a splinter or thorn from the flesh. A field 
mouse was caught, ripped open, and bound on the afflicted 
surface. A whitlow also was treated in the same way, and 
as felons were not uncommon, and the supply of mice was 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 247 

inexhaustible, the application was not difficult to make. A 
split fish applied to soles of the feet was said to prevent or 
cure ague. The skin of a black cat, bound upon the chest — 
skin side down — was expected to relieve a lung-fever pa- 
tient. Warm horse manure poultices were supplied for the 
sufferer with a stone-bruise or white swelling. 

Sheep-nanny Tea. 

The measles were treated effectively if unpleasantly for 
the sufferer. Unlike Samson of old, the strength of pio- 
neers was not in the hair, but in the stomach. Recovery 
from dietetic indiscretions and medicinal inflictions proved 
the strength of the stomach, although it may have been 
"turned" many times by the unpleasant prospects. 

One of the best known and most commonly used reme- 
dies, one that was specific in action and satisfactory in 
gaining results on the measles was: "Sheep-nanny tea." 
A cupful of sheep droppings was steeped in a quart of wa- 
ter, and the tea given to the patient to drink. If tbis did not 
start the rash and bring the measles to the surface, the case 
was considered to be hopeless. The same kind of tea was 
applied to swellings, and dropped into weak eyes to 
strengthen the vision. 

Colds and catarrh were relieved by deer-foot tea. This 
tea was not so bad to take, and perhaps was as nutritious 
as reparatory. It should have been called soup instead of 
tea. Deer-foot knuckles were cleaned and a kettleful were 
simmered for a long time. The dark-colored liquor then 
was drained off and seasoned for use. Lamb's gall and 
honey was thought to insure against spasms, and the bone 
marrow relieved stiff joints. Liberal quantities of marrow 
taken internally, were believed to dissolve bladder stones. 
The oil extracted from the jaw-bone of a hog was applied 
lo the neck for sore throat. 

There were many kinds of poultices and oils applied 
to kibes, or chilblains, but in addition the frosted parts 
were dusted with the ashes of burned meat. Ashes from 



248 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

ihe burned hoofs of a critter was said to kill lice if dusted 
into the hair, and beef's gall removed hair from the tanning 
hides, moreover it was credited with the property of curing 
earache, and was used with many poultice ingredients. 

The supply of roots and herbs often ran short during 
the winter months. If one could not borrow from the 
neighbors, the freshly killed animal or fowl usually became 
immediately available, for instance: goose-gizzard tea 
could be ready for the patient within, perhaps, ten minutes. 
The fowl was killed, the gizzard removed and cleansed. 
The inner lining was scraped loose and stewed for tea to 
relieve dyspepsia and prevent vomiting. The raw material 
for this remedy always was at hand and almost as easy to 
prepare as the vegetable decoctions. 

Nurses always were past middle age, frequently they 
were old "grannies." In the summertime, when it was de- 
cided a patient was sleeping too much, a cloth saturated 
with honey was placed near the face, and he was kept too 
busy fighting flies to permit the caresses of Morpheus. We, 
therefore, were not responsible for the development of 
"sleeping-sickness." 

Fungus Growths. 

The puffball, or devil's snuffbox, varied in size from 
six to ten inches across. When matured and broken open, 
the ball-shaped growth puffed forth its brown, dusty spores. 
When this fungus was bound about an open wound it was 
credited with the action of causing the blood to cease flow- 
ing. The fungus, smut or ergot which replaced the seed 
on cereal grasses was used to relieve congestion and check 
internal hemorrhages, especially in childbirth. Likewise, 
it hastened labor, and was administered for brain and 
bladder troubles. We were warned that there were not 
enough "simples" on the list to cure us if we ate toadstools, 
so the rank and luscious-looking mushroom was left strict- 
ly alone as an edible growth for the family. 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 249 

Warts. 

Warts were said to appear upon the hands of an unfor- 
tunate child after close association with toads. This be- 
lief persisted despite the fact that the excrescences deco- 
rated the phalanges of those who never handled toads. 
Some of the alleged cures were quite as inconsistent as the 
claim for contracting warts. 

A green, fresh-barked willow was selected. An incision 
was made through the bark which was loosened from the 
inner body for an inch or so. The warts were cut, or 
pricked until they bled freely. The blood from them was 
transferred to the slit space in the willow. The incision 
was closed and bound. When the bark had healed, the 
warts were to have disappeared. 

Diseases also were said to disappear by the sealing 
route. For a lung cough the hair, finger and toe nails of 
the patient were clipped. The fragments were let into an 
incision in an oak tree, and the opening sealed with clay; 
presto! the cough was gone. If the clippings were burned 
and the ashes given internally jaundice was driven from the 
system. 

Warts were more or less effectively treated with a poul- 
tice of stable manure. The warm blood of a hog applied to 
warts was said to remove them, and if the blood were taken 
internally, bed wetting was to cease. Selling warts seemed 
most in favor as it required no effort or inconvenience. A 
bean, button, nut, needle or any worthless object served the 
purpose of sale. 

Burning off warts with lye, or the direct application of 
a heated iron, created a sore that made one forget the for- 
mer existence of the wart by remembering the intensity of 
the burn; moreover, the growth may have returned later. 
Sticking pins through a wart and heating the metal in the 
candle-flame was a test of endurance which the youngsters 
semed to enjoy as it indicated to them they were able to 
withstand pain with the fortitude shown by their elders. 



250 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Poisoning. 

One of the many painful afflictions of the pioneers was 
being "pizened" from contact with the wood ivies and va- 
rious skin irritating plants which were so generally and 
generously distributed, I do not remember that any one 
of our family ever was poisoned, but I have seen victims 
with eyes swollen shut and face so puffed and discolored 
that they were unrecognizable. 

The immunity which our family seemed to enjoy must 
have been a natural one, and not due to care in handling or 
avoiding the poisonous growths. Indeed, care could not 
have been exercised, for a woodman or hunter daily was 
subjected to their presence throughout the summer. It was 
not necessary that a person who was susceptible to ivy- 
poison should handle the plant. Even its presence, or the 
wind blowing from it, seemed to infect such an individual; 
and contact with one who had handled it was sure to bring 
the irritating result. 

The poisoned surface of the skin was poulticed with 
liveforever leaves and cream or sour dock pulp. If the 
affected surface was large, moistened gunpowder which 
had been mixed under a knife or rubbed in the palm of the 
hand until the grit disappeared, was smeared upon it. Cop- 
peras water later was applied with a swab. A case of poi- 
soning or any skin eruption, although unpleasant and pain- 
ful was thought to be a fortunate affliction, in that irrita- 
tion or sores on the external surface reduced the probabil- 
ity of internal congestion which might induce a long siege 
of serious illness. 

A persistent and very troublesome skin irritator was 
the ringworm. Its progress around the circle usually could 
be stopped with a bath of catnip tea or walnut-hull juice. 
Erysipelas was poulticed with waterweed pulp, or bathed 
with juice pressed from the plant. 

Bleeding. 

When a patient was bleeding from wounds the imme- 
diate concern was to arrest the flow of blood, notwithstand- 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 251 

ing the fact that veins were opened and blood-letting prac- 
ticed for various ailments or no ailment, except that the 
victim was too full blooded. Anyone who could use a razor 
was qualified to bleed himself or another. An incision 
usually was made in the arm and one was permitted to 
watch his own blood trickle away. An even less inspiring 
sight was to watch the work of leeches. These bloodsuckers 
were obtained from the crick or a pond, by wading into the 
water. The parasites soon would attach themselves to the 
bare feet and legs of the procurer. The leeches were loos- 
ened before becoming securely settled upon the flesh, and 
then were placed upon the swollen or discolored surface of 
the anatomy which needed attention from the suckers. As 
the blood was drained the leeches filled to an enormous 
size. When the capacity was reached the blood-reducers 
released their hold on the victim, and they were thrown 
into the discard. 

Usually two or more bloodsuckers were placed upon a 
surface for relief. The more numerous they were the 
quicker the work was done. The jaws of these little beasties 
were so constructed it was difficult to pull them from their 
moorings once they were attached for the regular order of 
business. Salty water poured upon them would disqualify 
them for a time, however. 

Oils. 

Many medicinal oils could be obtained from plants, 
but the process was slow and bothersome, with small re- 
turns, and we gave little attention to reducing the vegetation 
in that way. We had a fairly constant supply of possum- 
fat, skunk and coon oil, goose grease and fish oil, in addi- 
tion to nmtton tallow, lard, venison and fowl fat. 

The soft oils, beside for cooking, were used on stiff^ 
joints or on open sores and for softening a scabbed surface. 
They were given internally for colds and sore throats. 
Skunk oil, if properly handled, was as pure and neutral 
smelling as any other oil. The soft fats served their pur- 



252 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

pose as hair oils, while the tallows were used for boot- 
grease, for candles, and weapon salve. A salve of tallow, 
rosin and beeswax was a good "sticker" for cuts, cracks or 
barked shins. Fishworm oil was rank both in smell and 
the method of reducing. A glass flask was filled with earth 
worms. A hempen string was tied about the neck of the 
bottle and it was hung in the sun. When the mass of worms 
had disintegrated, a residue of oil could be drained off". 
This oil was credited with the property of "limbering up" 
stiff^ joints. It was necessary to time the making of this oil 
to the right time of the moon, or the finished product soon 
"spiled." 

There was no relationship between castor oil and cas- 
torium. The latter was a brownish substance from glands 
in the groin of the beaver. Small doses were administered 
as a stimulant and for convulsions, and it also was used 
in severe cases of fevers. The muskrat, also, yielded a 
brown gland substance called musk. Medicinally it was 
used the same as castorium and was the basis for perfume. 
A musk-bag and its contents were so sickeningly strong 
that our boys did not bother with them except for the pur- 
pose of tantalizing members of the family or company. 
The presence of a civet cat was about as welcome as a boy 
with a supply of musk. 

Drug Purchases. 

We purchased, in addition to the home-remedy prepa- 
rations, as soon as they could be procured from the apothe- 
cary shop in Des Moines, small quantities of sulphur, tur- 
pentine, camphor gum and alum. Later it was necessary 
to procure red precipitate, calomel, quinine and nitre. 

When herbs were not strong enough, or their action was 
delayed, the druggists mixtures were brought into line. 
Turpentine to relieve bruises and expel internal parasites. 
Sulphur was to direct the poison through the skin, and red 
precipitate was spread upon the skin for eruptions, while 
burned, powdered alum was to heal mouth cankers, and 



CHARMS, SIGNS AND OTHER REMEDIES 253 

nitre to relieve the kidneys. Calomel was a general inter- 
nal cleanser which was liable to salivate the patient, and 
quinine was the qualified fever-breaker. Camphor eased a 
"broken breast" and reduced the flow of milk. 

What one may think of the many mixtures and unusual 
remedies mentioned makes little difference; the fact re- 
mains that their use was general and the lists given are but 
a few from the extensive ones which might have been re- 
corded by the old grannies or the doctors who administered 
the dope three-quarters of a century ago. 



254 



REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 




APPENDIX I. 

Biographical. 

Wilson Brewer was born in 1804, at Highcastle home- 
stead on the James river in Virginia, His parents were 
Nathan and Marie (Wilson) Brewer. 

Nathan Brewer, his wife and four children, emigrated 
to Henry county, Indiana, in 1808, when the subject of 
this sketch was four years of age. Father frequently 
related an incident of the journey which was impressed 
upon his memory either by its vividness or from repetition 
by his parents. 

While passing through a mountainous section of the 
country a storm arose and the movers camped to await the 
return of calm weather. A bolt of lightning struck a tree 
within a few feet of the covered wagon and killed the milch 
cow which supplied sustenance to the small children of the 
party. He likewise declared that his old plantation home 
surroundings were very clear to him, 

Wilson Brewer was married to Lucy Stanley in 1826. 
To this union was born Andrew Jackson Brewer; but in 
giving birth to the son the mother yielded her life. 

The second marriage of Wilson Brewer was in 1830. 
He chose Margaret Moore, the seventh daughter of a 
French couple, Jonathan and Frances Galliene Moore, who 
was the seventh daughter of her parents. 

The courageous, pioneering spirit of Wilson Brewer 
and his wife, Margaret Moore-Brewer, was a natural 
endowment from their revolutionary progenitors who aban- 
doned personal interests, suffered bodily discomfort and 
endured material disaster to maintain the larger principle 
of service. One readily can understand that nothing less 
than the pioneer hardships of frontier life could satisfy 
them, so they made their way westward in 1848, and 
founded the town of Newcastle, now Webster City, Iowa. 



256 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The memory of my father is a very sacred one to me; 
if I can live in the minds of my children as perenially as 
his influence remains with me, a pleasing immortality is 
assured. 

Wilson Brewer did not give great attention to business 
detail; rather, he preferred to enlist and direct the ener- 
gies and enterprises of others. He never was an official 
justice of the peace, but constantly was consulted in neigh- 
borhood disagreements or business transactions. He dep- 
recated the acquisition of large tracts of land by non-resi- 
dent companies, and declared that such a course subdued 
the spirit of progress. 

He cared nothing for the glory of individual achieve- 
ment. Money meant to him only the enlargement of a pos- 
sibility to assist others; and he accomplished an enduring 
good by bringing together men with enthusiastic ideas and 
expansive minds. I greatly regret that his life could not 
have been prolonged until the further fruition of the town's 
future had been realized. 

My father was hospitable to a fault; his last meal was 
shared with neighbors or newcomers. His generosity was 
the community by-word; and although he drove a shrewd 
bargain in a big deal, a close-fisted man was beneath his 
contempt. He was the soul of honor; his word was as good 
as a gilt-edged bond, and money lost in an unlucky wager 
was as promptly paid as an assessment of property taxes. 

Wilson Brewer was a democrat in politics as well as an 
essentially democratic individual. Personal exclusiveness 
or aristocratic ideas were very displeasing to him, and any 
preferment or privilege for a class was denounced in no 
uncertain terms. He never failed in the assistance prom- 
ised to neighbors or newcomers, and punctuality in such 
performance was his abiding rule. 

This intrepid pioneer traversed the forests of Hlinois, 
Indiana, Wisconsin and Iowa. He took the initiative in 
locating in a virgin country apart from the throng of peo- 
ple. He could not be daunted either by wild beasts or 
severe weather. He was alert for the possibilities of nat- 



APPENDIX I 257 

ural dangers and agile in their avoidance. He safely 
passed the perils and obstructions of travel; he calmly con- 
templated the hazards of exposure to weather and failure 
of crops; and he wrested from field and forest the needful 
subsistence for his family. A square-dealer himself, he 
was slow to suspect a man of unfair intentions; and in 
impersonating that spirit of equity he failed to protect 
himself from the undeveloped human aggressor; and so 
yielded his life at the age of fifty-two years. 

Wilson Brewer died in December, 1856. He had 
labored diligently to locate our city and promote its inter- 
ests and was at the threshold of its tangible accomplish- 
ment. His death not only was a municipal misfortune but 
it also was a domestic calamity. 

My mother knew absolutely nothing of business meth- 
ods. All legal papers — land patents, deeds, mortgages 
and notes — were delivered to the attorney, W. G. Berkley, 
and the administrator, A. J. Brewer, who died within two 
months. Much misunderstanding, interminable delays and 
technical tangles ensued and extended throughout the Civil 
war. The papers were carelessly looked after and father's 
holdings of land and personal property were dissipated 
in the adjustment and settlement of the estate. Mother 
died March 27, 1896. 

The immediate cause of the death of Wilson Brewer — 
founder and promoter of Newcastle — was the effect of a 
knife wound inflicted by a boastful character named Pren- 
degast. 

A presidential election bet had been made by the two 
men. Father wagered a twenty dollar gold coin against 
an overcoat of that price. After the election of James 
Buchanan, my father having won the bet, called upon 
Prendegast, in the store of Barton and Robinson on Bank 
and Seneca streets, to fulfil the agreement, but he refused 
to comply with the request. 

A dispute arose. Prendegast, who was a young man, 
clinched my father and bent him over the counter. With 
a knife, which he evidently had in readiness, the assailant 



358, REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

stabbed his victim several times in the back at the left 
shoulder. The clothing was cut into shreds, but only two 
thrusts penetrated the flesh. The wounds were not thought 
to be serious; and father requested that his assailant, who 
had been drinking, should not be taken into custody. 

A few days elapsed. When it was found that the vic- 
tim's injuries would prove fatal, Prendegast eluded the 
officers and fled the country. 



APPENDIX II. 



In Loving Memory of My Father. 

W ith hopeful heart and steady step, you faced with glowing eyes. 

The promise fair of Iowa, in fields, and streams, and skies. 

The woodland wild through which you roamed and breathed the free, 

fresh air. 
Has vanished like the bright mirage fades from the heavens fair. 
The hunting-grounds you traversed o'er with softly shodden feet. 
Are marked with many mansions fair, and miles of paved street. 
The gushing spring where once you bowed, and sipped its nectar sweet. 
Now sings through many silvery pipes, the laughing lips to meet. 
The miry swamps and thickets dense, the wastes of sodden soil, 
W ere marked as heritage, by you, for careful thrifty toil. 
The covert wild, of feathered folk, the staggard's safe retreat. 
By time and toil are well transformed with opulence replete. 

The unbridged streams and trackless hills, long since fulfilled your 
dream ; 

On rails of steel o'er which they race, the iron horses scream. 

The schooner and the old ox-team you gave especial care. 

By motor cars are notv displaced, and bird-men fill the air. 

Far, far afield you saw the light; and so, in years agone. 

You held ajar the door of hope, for those who here were drawn. 

The city which your service sought — the vision then in view — 

Has since assumed substantial shape, with prospects not a few. 

Your ringing voice, for three score years, has silent been; but still 

The spirit of your early work, keeps grateful hearts athrill. 

The soil so rich, and well beloved, you charmed to fruitfulness. 

Now folds itself about thy form, in silent, firm caress. 

The busy bees and flitting birds, sing soft above your bed 

The tuneful requiem of change, in time's unending tread. 

The circling planets sweep through space, and finite powers defy; 

And your dear dust helps to conserve the vital-force supply- 



APPENDIX III. 

Foreword to the Brassfield Version of the 
Lott-Indian Tragedies. 

I am writing this story as related by Major Brassfield 
as an account of the events which transpired between Henry 
Lott and the Indians. It, therefore, is not written with the 
desire to minimize the efforts made, or results gained by 
those who have made researches on this subject. 

I realize that anyone gathering historical data assumes 
a very difficult and tedious task. Unless journals have 
been kept dates and details are conflicting. They only can 
be approximately correct, and writers frequently find them 
selves submerged in the amplified and embellished reports 
which it often is impossible to co-ordinate into authentic 
accounts. Discrepancies, therefore, without intent, must 
arise and the seeker along a scarcely discernable trail dis 
covers how easily mistakes may be made. 

Diverse and conflicting accounts of a street brawl im- 
mediately after its occurrence are reported by the various 
witnesses of the happening. How much more difficult to 
procure dependable evidence when the participants to a 
struggle or the actors in a tragedy have passed across the 
stage of life. How much more obscure the pathway when 
distance has enveloped the outline of events with the dim- 
ness of uncertainty which makes hearsay evidence the best 
— the only source of information. 

I shall not try to reconcile the various printed state- 
ments; but shall tell, in my own words with the connecting 
historical links, the story related by Major Brassfield which 
indelibly was impressed on my youthful memory. Were 
it possible for me to rehearse the story in the Major's own 
words, his quaint, deliberate, convincing expression; his 
accurate, if lengthy, adherence to detail, the account would 
be far more interesting. 



APPENDIX III 261 

Henry Lett's early trouble with the redskins, and the 
subsequent Indian killings by him were separated by sev- 
eral years of time and miles of distance — the first occurred 
in what now is Webster county, the second in Humboldt 
county; but for the sake of brevity I recount the opening 
and later parts of the tragedy as a connected story. There 
is the discrepancy of a year between the earliest account of 
the Lott family trouble and the time given by Major Brass- 
field. It should be assumed, however, that Brassfield knew 
the year of his arrival in Iowa; the birthdays of his chil- 
dren; and when he left Hamilton county; and that he kept 
the record clear in that way. 

The Major did not mention the son of Lott whom his- 
torians state was frozen to death at the time of the Indian 
raid at Lott's premises; nor did he mention another son 
who, according to various versions of the massacre, as- 
sisted his father in the slaughter. The communication on 
buckskin, from Lott to his neighbor furnished the sure clue 
to the perpetrator of the crime; and the injured Indian lad's 
gesticulations were the only means of knowing what passed 
between Lott, the braves, and the old chief at the wigwam 
before the hunting trip. 

Brassfield called it a freak of fate that the pioneer lines 
of Henry Lott and himself were placed so closely together. 
He and Lott came to Iowa almost at the same time; he was 
present after the first trouble with Lott and the Indians; 
they were absent from home part of the time in 1849; he 
and Lott moved north at about the same time, and he was 
present after the closing of the Iowa chapter of Indian his- 
tory in which Henry Lott was the active figure. 

Major Brassfield left his ancestral southern plantation 
in 1847, and with oxen and covered wagons came to north- 
em Iowa. Henry Lott arrived soon after and squatted al- 
most within a stone's throw of him. The former in what 
now is Hamilton county, and the latter in what now is Web- 
ster county. The two white families were the only ones in 
the immediate vicinity at the time of the early trouble be- 
tween Lott and the Indians, 



262 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Major Brassfield was a careful student of nature. He 
observed the practices of his neighbor Lott, as he did the 
habits of the wild game which he hunted. He studied the 
banks of the White-Fox, Skunk and Eagle creeks. He knew 
perfectly the lay of the land along the Des Moines and 
Boone rivers, and was as familiar with the ground about 
what later was called Lott's creek and Bloody-run as he 
was with his own dooryard. 

Major Brassfield was a man of few words, but he em- 
phasized every one of them. He was absolutely depend- 
able as a friend and quite as dependable as an enemy. He 
possessed in abundance the alert, vigorous, indomitable, 
persistent and uncompromising spirit of the Pilgrim fa- 
thers. His memory was a very retentive one, and until his 
death at the age of eighty-five years, he was considered to 
be authority on pioneer settlement data and reminiscences. 

I am very glad to state that Hamilton county's record 
is free from any accounts of serious trouble with Indians. 

The question arises- — if one wanders into the realm of 
speculation — whether if Lott had fallen into the hands of 
the outraged Indian band under the leadership of Scarlet 
Point, the subsequent massacre by the redskins at Spirit 
Lake might not have been averted. 

There may have been older wounds as well as more im- 
mediate, although less inhuman causes which precipitated 
the massacre of the Spirit Lake settlers. It seems to be a 
well authenticated fact, however, that a part of Scarlet 
Point's band participated, and the Indian boy, Deer-Foot, 
who in January, 1854, escaped the bludgeon of Henry Lott, 
and who had developed into a fighting, fearless and aggres- 
sive brave — something of a menace to settlers — was among 
the number who led the Dickinson county raid in 1857. 



APPENDIX III 



263 




MAJOR BRASSFIELD AT 83. 



264 reminiscences of newcastle, iowa 

Major Brassfield's Story of Henry Lott's Trouble 
With the Indians. 

The shack of Henry Lott was only a short distance from 
my first cabin. He was a good, but not an intimate neigh- 
bor; and we, of course, exchanged the usual favors of pio- 
neer life. 

Whatever the peculiarities or propensities of Lott may 
have been, no one could accuse him of being a personal 
coward. He was daringly reckless and often venturesome 
to the point of foolhardiness. He did not qualify the asser- 
tion that his purpose in coming west was to accumulate 
property, so he did not emigrate for the love of hardship 
or with the hope to help humanity. He declared, however, 
that a dead Indian told no tales and harmed nobody, and 
in that faith he was willing to serve. 

Henry Lott was not a man to inspire confidence; and 
his careless, often aggressive methods with the Indians were 
a constant source of anxiety to my family and to the settlers 
to the south and west. His besetting sin found expression 
in furnishing fire-water to the natives and while their 
brains were muddled with liquor he readily gained an ad- 
vantage in trading with them. Such sharp practices, many 
times, strained their relations to the breaking point; al- 
though the Indians were simple minded and did not know 
the value of their possessions. Fur and ponies were their 
only trading stock, and on various occasions numbers of 
their ponies disappeared, some of which were located with 
Lott and forcibly taken from him. Other bunches of the 
animals, supposedly, were driven by him to the settlements 
south and east and sold. At one time the Indians located 
a number of their ponies on the premises of Lott and 
claimed them. He flatly refused to surrender the horses, 
asserting that he had bought them while the braves were 
drunk. On this occasion several white men, whose ap- 
pearance was not prepossessing, were present at the con- 
ference — envoys for the transfer of the ponies — and the 
Indians did not press their claim. A second depredation 



APPENDIX III 265 

of the same kind followed immediately, and very soon a 
third one was reported. 

On the heels of these losses a young squaw, White 
Fawn, took up her abode at Lott's cabin for the purpose of 
nursing his wife whose health was precarious. Saving the 
lives of palefaces was not the mission of redskins, so the 
already enraged Indians called upon Lott. Chief Two 
Fingers demanded that he leave the country or suffer the 
consequence. Lott, however, stood his ground until part 
of the stock had been killed and the stable burned. He 
finally was forced to flee for his life and leave his family 
behind. Meanwhile, White Fawn mounted one of the 
ponies and came to my cabin for assistance. With my two 
sons, George and Tollman, I at once repaired to Lott's 
shack, reaching there after his enforced and hurried de- 
parture. 

Mrs. Lott, a frail, nervous woman, wholly unfitted for 
frontier life, we found in a state of utter collapse from ex- 
citement and fright. The chief and older warriors stoically 
were smoking their pipes. Two lithe and sinewy bucks 
were searching the cabin for articles of adornment and eat- 
ables, while a lad of 15 had bared himself to the waist and 
was preparing a meal. White Fawn finished the cooking 
and we all partook of the repast. 

My family always had been on friendly terms with the 
Indians, and for the time, I succeeded in allaying their 
anger and inducing them to leave. Although they had 
fired Lott's stables, killed his stock and destroyed his pro- 
visions the Indians had made no attempt to inflict punish- 
ment upon his wife or violate her person; and during the 
intervals of calmness she spoke very gratefully of their 
conduct toward her. 

A storm of some severity arose and for several davs 
we remained with the family hoping for the arrival of the 
white fugitive, but he did not come. Finally, with the re- 
turn of moderate weather we yielded to the frenzied en- 
treaties of the almost demented wife and took up the trail 
to the southward, having improvised a sled upon which we 



266 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

transported the stricken invalid. We, however, had made 
but a very short distance toward Mineral Ridge (*see foot 
note 1) when the poor woman died. With great difficulty we 
dug a shallow grave and buried Mrs. Lott at an angle in 
the trail near a large boulder. (*See loot note 2.) 

White Fawn, who was devoted to her pale-faced sister, 
accompanied us on the southward trip, but she could not 
be induced to return. Reluctantly we turned our faces 
homeward; and as long as we could see her. White Fawn 
dejectedly stood beside the frozen clods which covered the 
remains of her departed companion. 

A day or two later Lott, who had aroused the settlers 
at Pea's Point and Mineral Ridge and enlisted the services 
of the friendly Johny Green band of Indians (*see foot 
note 3) and the neighbors. Pea, Crooks and Sparks, returned 
to find his home deserted. In company with Lott and his 
party we retraced our steps to the place where we had 
buried the body of his wife. Over her grave the husband 
voiced a terrible threat to the effect that: although it might 
take years to accomplish his purpose he would finally "gel 
even" with the Indians for what he, in his unreasoning 
anger, was pleased to call the killing of his wife. He did 
not, however, immediately seek to execute his vengeance. 

Henry Lott abandoned his demolished abode and 
moved restlessly about the country. He, a little later, lo- 
cated in Des Moines and remarried. In 1849 he traversed 
again the old trail and with his family, returned to the 
site of his former misfortunes. The latter part of the same 
season my wife and I visited in Mahaska county, where 
early in November our son Aaron Brassfield was born, 
after which event we returned to our home on the Boone 
river. 

Lott's relations with the Indians while he lived with 
his second wife were comparatively neutral and friendly. 
Mrs. Lott exercised a strong restraining influence upon her 



iMineral Ridge or Ridgeport is eight miles south of Stratford. 
^Author's Note. — The body of Mrs. Lott may have been removed 
later. 

■'Chemisne. Only the English equivalent of Indian names was used. 



APPENDIX HI 267 

husband and the fact that only small numbers of friendly 
Indians appeared at intervals gave an added assurance to 
the settlers that Lott's feeling of hatred toward the natives 
was diminished or outgrown. 

The death of Mrs. Lott in 1853 was a severe loss to 
the neighbors as well as to her family. She was a strong, 
capable and sympathetic personality who made and re- 
tained friends without apparent effort. During her last 
illness her husband said, many times: "If she dies my in- 
spiration will be gone; I cannot go on creditably without 
her." 

Mrs. Lott was buried near the old log cabin clearing 
where the summer's sunbeams filtered through the shim- 
mering leaves of monarch maple trees, and through whose 
boughs the winter's blasts crashed or sighed unceasingly. 
(*See foot note 1.) 

The home of Henry Lott again was broken and he de- 
cided to move forward along the river into Humboldt 
county where, in company with another white man, he 
trapped and traded with the Indians on the Des Moines. 
One of the trading staples found on his provision wagon 
was whisky, and the demand never seemed to exceed the 
supply. 

Settlers near the Des Moines and Boone rivers had 
become more numerous by this time. On account of the 
severe weather of January and February, 1853, and a 
greater number of hunters in the active work of killing 
game, a serious season of scarcity threatened. I began to 
look about for better hunting-grounds; so, during the sum- 
mer, accompanied by two of my sons, I prospected in a 
northerly direction and returned home at intervals. 

We located and built a cabin in the fall of '53, on the 
west bank of the Boone river at Liberty. My son Perry 
was born at Hook's Point in December, 1853, and my wife 



*It is evident from Major Brassfleld's account that the monument 
dedicated to Mrs. Lott indicates the resting- place of the second, in- 
stead of his first wife, unless, as before stated, her body may have 
been re-interred at that place. 



268 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

and family were not brought to Wright county until the 
spring of 1854. 

Henry Lott renewed his acquaintance with me after I 
had settled in his neck-o'-the-woods, and occasionally I 
crossed his trail while in the pursuit of game. His dis- 
tressing and regrettable domestic experiences had changed 
his appearance, but had made him entirely heedless of per- 
sonal safety. His aversion for the Indians after having 
slumbered for a season, seemed to have taken on a new 
intensity. 

The roving band of Two Fingers (*foot note 1) had 
stretched their teepees and built their wickups on the bank 
of Bloody Run (*foot note 2) and with reckless bravado 
Lott visited their camp, smoked the pipe of peace and free- 
ly dispensed fire-water until the bucks were stupefied with 
liquor (*foot note 3). The chief did not indulge freely 
in the revelry, but accompanied the venturesome trader to 
a near-by gulch to hunt. 

A study of the surroundings made it apparent that im- 
mediately after discharging his gun at the game — and be- 
fore the old chieftain could rise from his crouching posi- 
tion and reload his musket — Lott stole upon the unsuspect- 
ing Indian, dealt him a terrific blow from behind, splitting 
his head with the tomahawk of Two Fingers which the 
assailant evidently had borrowed from his victim for the 
purpose. 

Lott, evidently assuming that the bucks in their tepees 
still were "dead drunk" and the squaws sleeping, he re- 
visited the camp after nightfall; murderously assailed 
and left for dead — supposedly^ — every member of the little 
Indian band. Among the victims were the squaw and pap- 
pooses of Chief Two Fingers. The pappooses. Hawk-eye 
and Flying Wind, were twin braves of about fifteen years, 
whose comeliness, fleetness and alertness were sources of 
great joy and pride to the old chieftain. 

Two of the number in camp, however, escaped death. 

iSi-dom-i-na-do-tah. 

-The name Bloody Run was adopted after the tragedy. 

^The account as understood from Deer-Foot. 



APPENDIX III 269 

Although severely mutilated, a young brave, Deer-Foot, 
and a young squaw. Evening Shadow, made their way to 
the camping-ground of Scarlet Point. 

Deer-Foot told the terrible tale of the slaughter of his 
kinsmen by the paleface who professed friendship. The 
bucks in Scarlet Point's band were for starting in imme- 
diate pursuit of the perpetrator of the crime, but the chief's 
wiser council prevailed and they repaired to Fort Dodge 
for advice and assistance. 

The report of the massacre spread rapidly and was 
freely discussed by the indignant settlers who hurriedly 
sought the scene of the butchery. Some of my neighbors 
were not amicably disposed toward the Indians, but they 
did believe in the principle of fair play. I was among the 
early arrivals at the place where the bloody deed was com- 
mitted. (*Foot note 1.) 

Picked men were detailed to follow the fleeing mis- 
creant, and other willing helpers assisted in burying the 
dead savages. Investigation verified the statements of 
Deer-Foot. The hunting trail of Lott and Two Fingers was 
located in a ravine and led to the body of the slain chief- 
tain. 

The blow which caused the death of Two Fingers must 
have been struck with a steady hand, for the head of the 
victim was cleft in twain from the frontal bone backward 
and the tomahawk was imbedded in the brain. His empty 
firearm was tightly clenched in the hands of the dead In- 
dian. Later, there was found tied to a sapling near the site 
of Lott's camping place an unsigned message written with 
the point of a charred stick on a piece of buckskin, and 
addressed: "To my old neighbor. Major Brassfield," It 
read: 'T told you I would get even. I have kept my 
word." 

The frozen body of Two Fingers was carried to camp 
in the blanket found upon the hunting trail. The covering 



^The location of this massacre of Indians was at a point in Hum- 
bold county about seven miles north of Dakota City, and thirteen 
miles northwest of Goldfield — as the crow flies — and near where 
Bloody Run empties into the Des Moines East Fork. 



270 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

had been cast aside while pursuing the elk, the carcass of 
which had been dressed and loaded into Lett's schooner. 
Neither food nor furs were to be found in the Indian 
tepees. 

The scene at camp was a grewsome one. The whisky 
furnished by the white man had done its work well. The 
bodies of the braves gave very little evidence of resistance 
to the assailant. While helping to arrange for the burial of 
the victims I was horrified to find among them the body 
of White Fawn, the comely young squaw who last had been 
seen by me at the grave of Mrs. Lott. The threat of Lott to 
"get even," which was made half a decade earlier at the 
burial place of his wife more than a score of miles dis- 
tant, had been paid with compound interest. 

The Indians were buried near the scene of the massacre. 
Scarlet Point's band (*foot note 1) made no demonstra- 
tion of disapproval, and stoically waived the right of tribal 
burial. The chief, however, insistently asked that: when 
located, Lott should be turned over to his braves for pun- 
ishment according to the code of Indian ethics. He as- 
sured the Fort Dodge authorities and the posse who accom- 
panied him to camp that if this were done no more trouble 
would ensue — he would break camp and vamose to distant 
hunting-grounds. 

It was thought best to promise compliance with the re- 
quest, as great uneasiness was manifested by the settlers; 
but it was not necessary to redeem the promise, for Henry 
Lott, the shrewd white man, fled the country and did not 
return. 

His wagon course was followed down the river, but a 
"skift" of snow fell during the night of the pursuit and par- 
tially obliterated the trail. Having in his favor the several 
days' start, his pursuers decided it was best to abandon the 
man hunt and return home. 

The successful flight of Henry Lott caused rejoicing in- 
stead of regret. A troublesome individual was removed 
from our midst and the authorities were relieved of the 



^Ink-pa-du-tah. Said to have been a relative of Two Fingers. 



APPENDIX III 271 

necessity for redeeming the pledge to deliver Lott, alive, to 
Scarlet Point, thereby escaping the responsibility for his 
mistreatment — perhaps death — at the hands of the Indians. 
The summer following I received a message through the 
mail. Like the former one, it was written on a square of 
buckskin, but with pen and ink. It was rolled carefully 
about a smooth, round stick and securely tied with a raw- 
hide thong, and said: "To my neighbor. Major Brassfield. 
I am on my way toward the setting sun. Several more In- 
dians have been bitten by my good shooting-iron since I last 
saw you. I have a fine scalp-lock decoration now, and in- 
tend to add to it occasionally. That is what I am here for." 
— Signed — "Lott." 



APPENDIX IV. 

Author's Note. 

The intuitive desire for fair play and the wish to help 
a hapless victim, supplemented by some research and ma- 
ture reflection, has induced me to write this personal esti- 
mate of the Indian attitude toward White men of pioneer 
times. 

The responsibility for this opinion rests with me in- 
stead of with my mother. Her account of the Lott tragedy, 
however, furnished the occasion for its expression. 

I shall not attempt an account of the Spirit Lake mas- 
sacre. Its salient features have been traced by many Iowa 
historians; and a detailed description of the tragedy has 
been written by one of the women who was taken captive 
by the Indians. Abby Gardner-Sharp's book may be found 
in many Iowa libraries. 

My expression of individual opinion is not given to 
criticize the spirit of growth which made necessary the ac- 
quirement of the red man's hunting grounds; nor is it given 
to censure the men who were instrumental in its accom- 
plishment. It is a comparison of human propensities 
which, under the same conditions, produce the same results 
regardless of color or degree of civilization. 

A statement of fact, made without prejudice, should 
receive judicial consideration; so I hope to touch the note 
of expansive fairness which at this distance may make it 
possible to discuss amicably, and determine calmly the 
natural estimate of human values, whether the individuals 
under discussion be red or white-skinned. 

The Spirit Lake settlers were a peaceable and unoffend- 
ing people; that they should have been massacred in re- 
taliation either for fancied grievances or real injuries, is 



APPENDIX IV 273 

most deplorable. The trouble serves well, however, to em- 
phasize the prevalence of the idea : "an eye for an eye, and 
a tooth for a tooth," which persists, not alone among savage 
tribes, but among the peoples of so-called civilized nations. 

Strange to relate we frequently find those who claim 
the highest culture and humane tendencies are first to 
break all bonds of restraint, ruthlessly invade the liberty 
and usurp the rights of unoffending victims. For confirma- 
tion of this statement we only need to enumerate the many 
home and neighborhood disturbances, the state-wide polit- 
ical upheavals, and the trade depredations committed by 
destructive armies of conquest. 

There can be no extenuation of the Spirit Lake mas- 
sacre except that the perpetrators were unfamiliar with 
the teaching to turn the other cheek when smitten by the 
enemy. Their sense of mutuality and reciprocity, notwith- 
standing, seems to have been very well developed. 

There were, doubtless, stored in the minds of the In- 
dians many, to them, unjust minor incidents which goaded 
them to active enmity; and when nine of them were butch- 
ered by Henry Lott, forbearance must have ceased to be a 
virtue. This massacre of Indians seems to have been the 
crowning act of hostility remembered against the settlers, 
and for which they retaliated at Spirit Lake — the only mas- 
sacre of lowans by Indians, so far as I have been able to 
learn. 

Major Brassfield affirmed that Henry Lott was thought 
to be less desirable as a neighbor than the cheated and mis- 
treated red man who was unable to explain his grievances 
or good intentions. We readily can understand, however, 
that were a foreign race foolhardy enough to attempt to 
dispossess the white man, destroy his possessions, appro- 
priate his belongings or take his life if expedient, there 
would be more strenuous opposition, more terrific destruc- 
tion of property and more bloody reprisals required than 
could have been conceived by the savage mind of half a 
century ago. 

An historical account states that while the fragmentary 



274 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

band of Sioux Indians, although apparently friendly and 
listed as pensioners of Uncle Sam, had not at that time, re- 
ceived their portion of revenue for the sale or cession of 
Iowa lands. Isn't it possible that the distance of the gen- 
eral government from the danger zone may have caused 
delay, not to say apathy or indifference to the niceties of 
business adjustment; or that the envoys who came to ensure 
safety to the settlers may have been mistaken or careless in 
the equitable distribution of Indian payments, thereby 
raising the question of unfair dealing in the minds of the 
former possessors of the land? 

Mrs. Sharp, referring to the withholding of annuities 
of Indian bands until they had helped to capture or kill 
Inkpaduta, although these assistant bands had nothing to 
do with the massacre, says: "We will only say that it was 
the opinion of some of the Indian officials, and the general 
intelligent sentiment of the people of Minnesota at the 
time, that the apparently friendly disposition of the Sioux 
nation should not be endangered by subjecting them to 
wants, incident to their present condition, thus leading 
them into temptation and to commit depredations which 
the withholding their annuities might leave them exposed." 

Imposing dangerous and unusual burdens upon friend- 
ly bands of Indians was not the business of those in com- 
mand of affairs, and the condition which obtained after 
the return of the two captives existed before, as indicated 
by various official reports. 

We virtuously assert that Iowa lands were bought from 
the Indians, but note the price. For a part of the Neutral 
strip the government in 1830 paid the Indians two cents — 
some authorities say three cents — per acre; and in 1842, 
for the cession by the Sac and Fox tribes east of the Mis- 
souri river, ten cents per acre was paid. 

The treaty with the Sac and Fox tribes stipulated that 
they were to relinquish their part of the then territory of 
Iowa, but were allowed three years in which to evacuate. 
The Sioux Indians occupying northern Iowa and parts of 



APPENDIX IV 275 

what now is Minnesota and Dakota were not friendly with 
the Sac and Fox tribes. 

The Sacs and Foxes moved westward to leave Iowa, as 
per treaty, and a part of the Sioux contingent followed 
them; thus, for some time separating themselves from the 
parent tribe. These bands being absent in 1851 when the 
treaty ceding Minnesota lands was made, they, at that time 
had received no share of the payments due them. 

The non-payment of money to them was stated by 
Charles Flandreau, who later was Indian agent. They were 
absent, he says: "and took no part in the treaty." These 
braves came under the leadership of Inkpaduta and Sidom- 
inadotah, and the latter became the victim of Henry Lott. 

Referring to the northern border Indian trouble during 
the civil war, Major Flandreau makes this declaration: 

"Much dissatisfaction was engendered among the In- 
dians by the administration of the treaties under the gen- 
eral government * * *. The rebellion of the south 
was at its height. The payment due in June or July, 1862, 
was much delayed. The Indians were hungry and angry. 
Nothing special has been discovered to have taken place to 
which the outbreak can be immediately attributed." 

Discussing the causes in a report by Geo. L. Davenport 
to Governor Kirkwood of the western frontier situation, he 
says: 

"I am of the opinion the cause of dissatisfaction among 
many of the tribes of Indians is caused mainly by the gen- 
eral government paying the annuities to the Indians in 
goods instead of money. * * * He thinks the agent 
is cheating him. He thinks he is wronged, although the 
agent explains to him that cotton and wool have gone up 
in price and that his money does not buy as much as before. 
It is difficult to make the Indian understand or believe it, 
but pay him in dollars and then he knows the government 
has fulfilled its part." 

Governor Grimes, after the Spirit Lake massacre, es- 
tablished a supply of arms and ammunition in Webster and 



276 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Dickinson counties. He said in his message to the general 
assembly of Iowa in 1858: 

"I do not anticipate any further trouble from Indians. 
Rumors in regard to further difficulty can generally be 
traced to interested persons, seeking to accomplish some 
ulterior purpose." 

What such ulterior purpose was the governor does not 
declare but his statement would not indicate an actively 
unfriendly attitude of the Indians, The fact, likewise, 
that from 1853, when the soldiers were transferred from 
Fort Dodge to Fort Ridgley, Minnesota, there was not for 
several years a single military organization in the state, 
would not indicate Indian hostility. 

Many years ago America's sage and benefactor, Ben- 
jamin Franklin, said: "It appears that almost every war 
between Indians and Whites in our country has been caused 
by iniustices of the latter toward the former." 

When we reflect that the Indian's account of this or any 
other story never has been written; when we remember 
that re-written stories often become one-sided; when we 
realize that the sufferings of a human being may be equally 
acute under a sun-browned cuticle or beneath a pure white 
skin; when we admit that savage instincts still persist in 
the white race — then we shall be more just in our judgment 
than we have been heretofore. 

It is quite believable there were unrecorded early in- 
vasions of the rights of both Indians and white men, but the 
court records of today indicate a similar condition existing 
between members of the white race alone. 

Historians assert that Henry Lott committed many dep- 
redations against property and made many unjust and de- 
moralizing deals with the Indians. I imagine these acts 
would arouse the resentment of almost any red-blooded 
white man; and were his revenge immediately taken the 
court of the common people, doubtless, would declare it 
to be justifiable. 

The Spirit Lake massacre was committed over half a 
century ago ; but was it more distressing than the up-to-date 



APPENDIX IV 277 

feuds of the South which end only with the death of all 
members of one or more families? Was this massacre 
more deserving of execration than the recent bloody strife 
of settlers with western plainsmen in the effort to break up 
large holdings of grazing lands for homes? 

A condition was presented in these disturbances very 
similar to the one which confronted the Indian; and in this 
particular parallel the scales tip in favor of the red man. 
He sought only to conserve his food supply, while the 
greedy holder of grazing-lands sought to accumulate money 
benefits at the expense, and to the detriment of suffering 
home-seekers. 

We read that when the Fort Ridgley soldiers were pre- 
pared to pursue the Indians and the Spirit Lake captives, 
the detachment was recalled and detailed to the scene of 
Mormon troubles. These religionists, earlier had been 
driven from their homes by the persecutions of their broth- 
ers of the same race and color, because they did not wor- 
ship God as did their neighbors. 

When established in their Mormon stronghold they are 
alleged to have returned blow for blow to innocent west- 
ern emigrants. "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a 
tooth" culminated, in this case, in the Mountain Meadows 
massacre, which now is conceded to have been of fanatical 
Mormon instigation. 

Are we justified, with such common cruelties fresh in 
our minds, in declaring the Indian to be a more intolerant 
savage than the white man? 

Could the resentment of Indians be more unreasoning, 
their enmity more virulent than the race antipathy — not to 
say hatred — of white men for negroes? This prejudice 
culminates periodically in the most atrocious butcherings 
and burnings of black men by their white brothers. Does 
the taking of a white man's scalp as a trophy by an Indian 
deserve a greater degree of censure than the collection of 
fragments of negro flesh as souvenirs by the white ex- 
ecutors? 



278 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Charles Bancroft says: "As for scalping, that was orig- 
inated by the palefaces, so the Indian cannot be blamed 
for adopting it. The colonists offered bounties for scalps 
of the Indians. The warriors' scalps were the most ex- 
pensive. Those of the squaws came next. The friendly 
Indians were induced to scalp their fellow redmen in the 
hope of receiving these bounties, and it is but natural that 
the hostile Indian retaliated, not only against the friendly 
Indians, but against the white man." 

Indian depredations were few and far between on the 
frontier, compared with the number of immigrants; but 
reports from our cultured and populous centers show that 
during the past seven years six thousand persons in Chi- 
cago have been shot. The same city reports a total number 
of arrests for 1915 of 121,714 persons. Press reports 
chronicle 818 arrests for the city of Des Moines, Iowa, 
during the month of July, 1917. It would require some 
speed by the several tribes of Indians to match these rec- 
ords of crime and misconduct. 

The Indians had no ponderous written law volumes for 
their guidance, but regardless of our statutes there were 
fifty-five negroes lynched in the United States in 1915, by 
white men and women; and the perpetrators of these hein- 
ous crimes were not at all particular to make sure they 
captured the guilty party. The execution of any black man 
seemed to appease the wrath of the civilized white man. 
The stock charge of assault was not always sustained; and 
statistics show that burnings have occurred when the vic- 
tim was guilty only of vagrancy and other light offenses. 
From the hundreds of reports which might be cited from 
the press, I quote but one: 

"Two negroes and one negress near Savannah, Ten- 
nessee, were burned to death by white tenants who objected 
to the occupancy of land by negroes. The negroes were 
going to market with a load of seed cotton. They were 
tied to the load of cotton, and after building a fire beneath 
it, the mob stood guard while the negroes were cremated." 



APPENDIX IV 279 

These outrageous crimes are being committed today. 
Are we to suppose that pioneers of three score years ago 
were always punctilious in their treatment or dealings with 
Indians? 

Recent statistics show that in the United States, within 
seventeen months, 4,217 wives were murdered by their 
husbands. With these facts before us the bloody record of 
the Indian fades a little in hue. When we read of opera 
house hangings so the elite of society may witness the 
physical manifestations of strangulation; when we note 
the record of private lynching parties and public execu- 
tions as holiday festivals, (read Georgia and Mississippi 
statistics for August, 1915,) we are constrained to admit 
that the war-dance of red-skinned savages about the forms 
of their captured victims cannot approximate the sports of 
the cultured, pale-faced product of our enlightened age. 

Our Anglo-Saxon cousins, as late as 1870, listed one 
hundred and sixty crimes punishable by death. We have 
eliminated a large number from this list; but the members 
of modern society commit crimes and depredations which 
make necessary the maintenance of fourteen thousand 
prisons, and an annual expenditure of six billions of dol- 
lars for machinery of conviction and other expenses. Since 
our rules of life today are so remote from the spirit of 
reciprocity, are we not presumptions even to expect the 
semblance of mutuality in the primitive races of pioneer 
times? 

I quote from the reply to a personal letter of inquiry 
addressed to Professor Frederick Starr, anthropologist of 
the Chicago University, in regard to the characteristic 
cruelty charged by so many authors against the Indians, he 
says: "I know of no tribe of American Indians who are 
deserving of the terms wanton cruelty, and vengefulness. I 
did not suppose anyone made such claims nowadays." 

It is difficult for an interested individual to view an in- 
jury from a disinterested standpoint, or to consider a com- 
munity grievance with national consideration. Conditions 
arise in the path of progress which, whether locally detrl- 



280 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

mental or beneficial, produce unvarying results; and on 
the possibility of being considered by a judicious, analyti- 
cal mind depends the accuracy or bias of history. 

The red race, as a whole, no more should be blamed for 
the depredations of various hostile bands of Indians than 
the Caucasians, as a race, should be censured for blacK- 
hand societies or the kuklux klan. It would be very unrea- 
sonable and unjust to condemn the Italian people because 
of the existence of the Mafia, or Christianity for its recreant 
ministers, or a community lor its several '"'blacc sheep." 

Henry L. and Edwin Sabin, in "The Making of Iowa," 
record this statement: "Let us bear in mind that the Sacs 
and Foxes, the lowas and the Sioux, and all the rest were 
but men and women as are all the white people. They 
loved their homes; they loved their relatives; they were 
brave in defense of their rights. The more we learn of 
the Indians, especially of their life before the whites cor- 
rupted them with liquor and false promises, the more we 
will respect them. ^ * * They were honest and paid 
their debts more promptly than did the whites." 

The American Indian, according to his degree of de- 
velopment, is exactly like the white race. There are 
friendly and vicious individuals who command a certain 
following; there are true and treacherous members of both 
races. There are intelligent, broad-minded men seeking 
the good of all; and opposed to them is the selfish element 
seeking power and prestige. 

The red, black, brown or yellow races hold the same 
relative position in the estimation of the white man — that 
of an inferior; therefore, they are the legitimate prey of 
his dominant mentality and physical efficiency. While 
the white man's power or craft are in the ascendancy he, of 
course, will hold his position. Power delegated or 
usurped invariably has been abused, and to hope for the 
voluntary relinquishment of such hold upon any race — or 
a portion of our own race — before the influence of educa- 
tion has done its work, were to hope for the unattainable. 



APPENDIX IV 281 

General Randolph B. Marcy says: "Nearly all the 
troubles we have encountered with the Indian tribes for 
the last fifty years has resulted from the noncompliance, 
on our part, with treaty stipulations, together with the in- 
justice and fraud practiced upon them by dishonest agents." 

Randall Parrish, in The Great Plains, says of early 
immigration over the Santa Fe Trail: "During all the later 
years the Indian tribes were restless and dangerous. * * * 
This hostility of the savages can be traced back to the 
reckless barbarism of the teamsters themselves. The Santa 
Fe Trail became a trail of blood, yet it was peaceful 
enough until wanton shooting of Indians by whites com- 
pelled the tribes to retaliate. In the earliest days a man 
could have walked in safety the entire distance." 

General Nelson A. Miles says: "The whole history of 
our dealings with the Indians has been one process after 
another of obtaining from the Indians what the white 
man wanted, with little scruple about methods. We disre- 
garded treaties, sold the Indians into slavery in some 
states and pushed them back into the wilderness and toward 
extinction." 

The success of pioneering from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific became more rapidly possible because of the assist- 
ance and co-operation of friendly red men. That small 
numbers of hostile bands held up the advance guard of 
settlement is but an incident in the march of progress. 

It is a matter of record that after the Puritan fathers 
landed on the American continent they first "fell upon their 
knees, and then upon the aborigines." The same policy 
has been continued throughout the years by various arms 
of the government and lawless members of society. 
Whether mistakenly or intentionally does not change the 
record of results. 

It is a well known fact that the Indian wars of history 
were fought on the one side by Indians who were hostile to 
white invasion, and by white men and friendly Indians on 
the other. It likewise is well known, and admitted by Mrs. 
Sharp, that the negotiations of the governor of Minnesota 



282 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

for the relinquishment of captives taken at the Spirit Lake 
massacre, could not have been concluded favorably except 
for the assistance of friendly Indians. 

Our outlook upon life is: whatever appears to benefit 
us most, seems just to us; whatever promises displeasure 
or detriment is declared to be unjust. Whether this reason- 
ing can be sustained from a humane standpoint matters 
not; the fact remains. The advent of the white man into 
the hunting grounds of the Indian did not presage benefits 
for the so-called savage. The invasion appeared to be un- 
just to many, therefore to be opposed and the offenders 
punished. The color line cannot be drawn on this state- 
ment; its boundary is not tribal or even national; the law 
of self-preservation — of sustaining and maintaining the 
race — is as virile in one branch of the tree of humanity 
as another. 

The strife for supremacy has been well shown in the 
world war with its waste of money and men; with its dis- 
regard for personal and property rights; with its demand 
for sacred and profane sacrifices; with its holocaust of hate 
and horrors; with its burial of ideals and inspirations and 
its records of disease, debauchery and disaster — the world 
war emphasizes the fact that today civilization essentially 
is savagery. It also places the consideration of early In- 
dian depredations in a class by themselves and out of the 
lists in competition. 

The two general methods followed by the Indians — that 
of hostile opposition and that of peaceful submission to 
white domination — both seem to have failed. The first, 
those opposing invasion, have been sacrificed without 
mercy; the second, the peacable tribes, have been demoral- 
ized by idleness and the various vices of a white man's 
civilization. These changes were thrust so suddenly upon 
the victims that no time was given for constitutional or 
intellectual evolution; so, these sons of nature rapidly are 
beina; eliminated from the equation of progress. 

The moderation which should characterize our attitude 
toward an aggressor; the toleration which should be exer- 



APPENDIX IV 283 

cised toward a so-called inferior, and the consideration 
which should make always possible just decisions for both 
— these may be slow in materializing, but they must mate- 
rialize if we are to answer, affirmatively, the question: "Am 
I my brother's keeper?" 



APPENDIX V. ! 

To my 

Parents, I 

who helped to subdue the wilderness, 

and to those 

Who Appreciate the Dignity of Labor, 

these verses are lovingly inscribed by \ 

I 
Harriet Bonebright-Closz. I 

■ 'I 
\ 
I 

The Iowa Log Cabin was written many years ago on the | 

occasion of a birthday visit to the old homestead, j 

i 
The Iowa Lo^ Cabin. J 

In taking stock of fleeing years, . | 

My mind, intent, doth roam ^ 

To early days and duties, j 

In the old log cabin home. J 

I view again the rough hewn logs — j 

The plastering of clay | 

That chinks the gaping crevices, ] 

The winters' winds to stay. j 

I 

The rough stone chimney at the end 
Is crumbling here and there; 

We judged, from shifting course of smoke. 
The weather foul or fair. 
Out there's the smokehouse where we stored 
The venison supply; 

And just beyond, the river, where 

Half-buried fish-traps lie. i 



APPENDIX V ^ 285 

From hick'ry pole frame near the creek 
The iron kettle swings; 

Its wide expanse and depth immense, 
Served us for many things. 
In it we washed, hulled hominy. 
And rendered out the lard; 

We simmered syrup, heated wax. 
And made soap — soft or hard. 

The "prairie schooner" stands beside 
A pile of hickory logs; 

A store for blacksmith tools and chains. 
And shelter for the dogs. 
The patient oxen wait the yoke, 
Nor do they try to shirk 

The grubbing, logging, teaming 
Or other arduous work. 

Upon the great flat stone before 
The single door I stand; 

I grasp and pull the leathern latch — 
The good old rawhide brand; 
The home-made hick'ry hinges yield — 
The sagging oaken door 

In opening, harshly scrapes upon 
The warped old puncheon floor. 

I muse, the fireplace beside; 
I view the mantle shelf; 

Its wondrous weight of ornament 
That holds no hint of pelf. 
The clay-packed hearth, the iron dogs, 
The hooks, and prods, and tongs; 
The rosy, rushing, sweeping flames 
Paint pictures and sing songs. 



286 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The quaint old four-post bed still stands 
Close up against the wall; 

How loud its well-taxed cordage creaked, 
I very well recall. 
The circling curtains reach the floor, 
With purpose to conceal 

Surplus supplies and implements — 
Their presence is quite real! 

Above the door, two forked sticks 
Support the rifle old, 

That's eloquent with tragic lore 
And deeds of valor bold; 
The shot-pouch and the powder-horn 
Hang ready to the hands — 

Against the wall, for quick defense. 
The trusty broad-ax stands. 

The bales of wool and spinning wheel 
Beside the door find room; 

The hatchel, distaff", cards and rolls 
Repose beneath the loom. 
Ax-helves and ox-yokes seasoning. 
Rest on the upper beams; 

A cobbler's "kit," bootjacks and combs — 
They're here at hand, it seems! 

The "hall-trees" made of wooden pegs 
Are stapled in the wall; 

Shelves have the same supporters firm, 
And ne'er were known to fall 
Beneath their burden's pond'rous weight 
Of dish and box and not — 

Of woodenware and food supplies, 
Of powder-keg and shot. 



APPENDIX V 287 

The rings of pumpkin placed to dry 
Festoon the space o'erhead; 
The skillet at the fireplace 

Was used to bake corn bread; 
A tin, with many rough nail-holes — 
Unknown to modern trade — 

Served first to grate the corn, before 
The "dodger" could be made. 

At eve, a saucer filled with grease, 
A braided rag for wick 

And blazing fore-log furnished light; 
Anon, I hear the click 
Of needles knitting; the supply 
Of clothing grows apace. 

As women sew and weave — while men 
Cast bullets for the chase. 

A trap door here, just at the right. 
Discloses 'neath the floor 

A deep-dug pit, well strewn with hay, 
Where's kept the winter's store 
Of garden truck; and often when 
The weather was severe. 

The porkers young, and shiv'ring calves 
Found cozy shelter here. 

I climb the ladder to the loft, 
Beneath the rafters low; 

Where oft the beds were covered o'er 
With lightly sifted snow. 
No ventilating air-device — ■ 
Our system was the best — 

An un-chinked crevice 'neath the eaves — 
And nature did the rest. 



288 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The trundle-bed for company, 
Is dressed with softer store 

Than other lumpy, hay-stuffed ticks. 
Which deck the attic floor. 
The children who go first to bed, 
Pre-empt the best in sight; 

Which leads to prompt retirement — 
Perhaps, a childish fight. 



But changes came with passing years; 
These children now are grey. 

Palatial homes and schools have grown 
Where once they used to play. 
The haunts where roamed the savage beast, 
Now yield a bounteous store 
Of food for tens of thousands. 

And reserve for thousands more. 



The early settlers' cabin homes 
Have fallen to decay; 

The "Star of Empire" still moves on, 
"Still westward takes its way." 
Each generation has its work, 
The fact now is quite clear — 
That none have builded better 
Than the IOWA PIONEER. 



APPENDIX V 289 



The State of Iowa. 



Come Yankee farmers, list' to me! 

And heed this glowing song. 
That you may prosperous become — 

Live happy, well, and long. 
If you're courageous, hopeful, wise. 

Enlist without delay. 
And join the ox-team movers, who 

Are bound for Iowa. 



The way is long, the waters deep. 

The trail almost unknown. 
The bitter hardships of the trip, 

Need not, just here, be shown. 
We think, instead, of joys beyond; 

Of benefits which may 
Accrue to all the people, from 

Our trip to Iowa. 

Why be content in eastern states, 

Where hills and rocks abound? 
And prices soar quite out of sight. 

For barren tracts of ground. 
Out west, the fields for miles and miles. 

Stretch endlessly away 
With billowy waves of grain and grass, 

In pleasant Iowa. 

Why hesitate to leave the land 

The York State worker owns? 
It yields but scant subsistence, and 

Swells large, the list of loans. 
The ripened grain-stacks dot the fields, 

The bins are full, they say. 
With surplus for the immigrants; 

In fruitful Iowa. 



290. REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

We'll guide the teams through hoosierland, 

Where pilgrims have remained, 
Faint-hearted, and well satisfied. 

To miss what might be gained. 
The buckeye, badger, gopher plains, 

We'll cross with steady gait, 
And journey, joyously, until 

We reach the Hawkeye state. 

Our soil is full of Nature's food; 

'Tis rich, and black, and deep. 
It yields full crops for man and beast. 

If we but plant and reap. 
The rivers wander toward the gulf. 

They dance, and sing, and play; 
A million shining fish, swim through 

The streams of Iowa. 

The deer and elk, the wild-game birds, 

Seem fearlessly to wait 
The advent of the hunting-hounds. 

Into the new-named state. 
The animals with fine fur coats. 

Of black, or brown, or grey. 
Assures both revenue and clothes 

For men in Iowa. 

The springs pour from the earth's broad breast. 

Life's clear streams for the brave 
Who seek for pure refreshment, and 

In their cool waters lave. 
The wooded slopes which skirt the streams 

With autumn's bright array. 
Provide the wood, and warmth, within 

Productive Iowa. 



APPENDIX V 29 L 



Come, follow us! we'll move along, 

With step full, firm and free; 
We'll plow the fields and bridge the streams, 

And fell the forest tree. 
As we for homes and future peace. 

The firm foundations lay, 
'Twill add a rich endowment to 

The future Iowa. 

So, westward turn, we'll head the march! 

With other comrades dear; 
The pioneers' hard lot we'll face. 

Without a qualm of fear. 
The Mississippi and Des Moines 

We'll ford along our way, 
And end our journey at the Boone, 

In dear, old Iowa. 



The Cat-Hole in the Door. 



As o'er the pages of the past. 

My memory lightly plays, 
I'm borne on visions' misty wings, 

Back to my childhood days. 
One great affliction of my youth, 

Still thrills me as of yore; 
This source of deadly terror, was 

The cat-hole in the door. 



292 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

In trembling dread I often sat 

The fireplace beside; 
While sparks and flames swept roaring, up 

The chimney deep and wide. 
But still, above the family chat, 

Above the storm's fierce roar, 
I'd hear the whistling wind sweep through 

The cat-hole in the door. 



And then I'd press close to the fire. 

Within its spread of light. 
Filled with a fear for folks detained, 

Who journeyed through the night. 
I'd think of white-robed ghosts that prowled 

Through tales of ancient lore. 
And, doubtless, gained an entrance through 

The cat-hole in the door. 

One stormy night, weird tales were told, 

Of bloody Indian strife; 
And of the perils that beset, 

The pioneers' hard life. 
I glanced behind me where the light 

Cast shadows on the floor. 
And thought I saw a shape creep through 

The cat-hole in the door. 

The howling tempest gathered strength; 

The tree-tops groaned and creaked. 
The bay of dogs was heard, the while 

The winds terrific, shrieked. 
A human-sounding cry broke forth. 

And pierced my being's core. 
As Tom, and Tab, and Spot trooped through 

The cat-hole in the door. 



APPENDIX V 293 

Loitering Amid the Old Scenes. 

How often I think of the scenes that have vanished, 
The hurrying years my reflections compel; 
They're freighted with mem'ries distressing and painful, 
With commonplace stories, and joyous, as well. 

The old settlers' stories — 

The pioneers' stories — 

The hard-luck old stories, 

We love to re-tell! 

The bright sunny hillslopes where rest our loved comrades; 
The trail through the woods, and the sweet, earthy smell; 
The thickets of bushes surrounding the cabin, 
Where, nightly, the wolves raised their hideous yell. 

The old-time log cabin — 

The one-windowed cabin — 

The shake-covered cabin. 

We all loved so well! 

The old prairie schooner — the pioneers' shelter 
From wild beast and savage, its purpose served well. 
The needful equipment, in closely packed strata. 
At each overturning its contents would swell. 

The old covered wagon — 

The hickory-bowed wagon — 

The solid-wheeled wagon. 

Which did its work well! 

From white sandy depths gushed the bubbling spring water. 
Beneath the old oak tree, in vine-verdant dell; 
The path down the hillslope sought friendship with morning, 
And snakes sunning there, sent us homeward pell-mell. 

The silver spring-water — 

The ne'er failing water — 

The health-giving water. 

No drink can excel! 



294 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The clearings encircled by stake-ridered fences, 
Where slab-sided porkers remained but a spell; 
When free, they were friendly; rejecting confinement— 
Their fence-scaling work was most wondrous to tell. 

The old-time worm fences — 

The seven rail fences — 

The zig-zag old fences. 

The hogs climbed so well! 

The brindle old oxen, with strength in abundance. 
Would oft break away and in speeding excel; 
Or lay down to rest when our hurry was greatest. 
Nor "tailing," nor goading could movement compel. 

The rough-coated oxen — 

The hard-working oxen — 

The patient old oxen. 

We rode to the well! 

In rich, sloughy muck, which has now become famous, 
The "stuck in the mud," was a sad tale to tell; 
While pulling the "critters" from miry positions. 
To rescuers, sturdy, a sad fate befell. 

The breachy old critters — 

The fence-horning critters — 

The pail-kicking critters, 

That no one could sell! 



The hair-pulling contests among all the youngsters. 
Whose howls would do credit to "Soo Injun" yell; 
The "Oil of the hick'ry" applied by our mother, 
On sports pugilistic, at once rung the knell. 

The green hazel switches — 

The withy birch switches — 

The tough hick'ry switches, 

A story could tell! 



APPENDIX V 295 

The settlers partook of the bounty of neighbors 
With freedom and joy. There was nothing to sell. 
Did sickness befall, or misfortune attend them, 
Assistance awaited, good cheer to compel. 

The dear old-home neighbors — 

The staunch, friendly neighbors — 

The true-blue old neighbors, 

Whatever befell! 

The visits and cooking, the parties and dancing, 
With building and planting, the "blues" would dispel; 
The hunting and trapping, the chopping and firing. 
Was need quite sufficient, with work to excel. 

The deer-hunting parties — 

The working-bee parties — 

The old dancing parties. 

Enjoyed were, so well! 



I'd love to return to the scenes of my childhood. 
And feel the full tide of the blood's youthful swell; 
Forget all the heartache, deceit and dissembling. 
And lessons un-learn, which the senses repel. 

The old scenes of childhood — 

The far-distant childhood — 

The mem'ries of childhood. 

Which make the heart swell! 

I joy in the spirit of pioneer pastimes; 
Of fireside pleasures; in field or on fell; 
That helped in the gracious dispensing of favors 
With unselfish bounty, so worthy and well. 

The good old-time spirit — 

The free-hearted spirit — 

The true-service spirit. 

All shams can dispel! 



296 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The Old Brass Candle-Molds. 

Grandmother had discovered the discarded candle-molds 
among the attic waste and rubbish. She burnished, de- 
corated and placed them in the living room where they 
were seen for the first time by the young granddaughter 
who soliloquized as follows: 

"Here's something new, and quite unique upon the mantle 

tree; 
Its purposes now quite confuse, and greatly puzzle me. 

Its slender shining metal tubes, stand closely side by side. 
Just at the smooth and tapering ends, soft rolls of white 
are tied. 

Is it some strange, new instrument for making music sweet? 
Is harmony here slumbering, to wake through fingers fleet? 

Maybe it is a register, a merchant's cash to count. 
Since business fast increases, and high, finances mount. 

Or can it be some queer machine, explosives to conceal? 
And sure when skillfully arranged, its deadly work to deal? 

See! they are made with six smooth tubes, about a foot in 

length. 
They taper to an end of points — perhaps to furnish strength. 

Then this small opening at the end — why should men wish 

to kill? 
It must be for the timing- fuse! It makes my heart stand 

still! 

I'll go and ask my grandma, wise, she'll surely make this 

clear; 
For 'till its purpose I find out, I'm bound to persevere." 



APPENDIX V 297 

"Why, yes, my dear," said grandmama, "the past, its secret 
holds; 

This bunch of shining cylinders, are old, brass, candle- 
molds. 

I brought them from obscurity among the garret waste; 
I scoured off the coating, green, with which they were 
encased. 

You see, some sixty years ago, the firelight helped our 

sight; 
Or with grease-dish, and rag for wick, we improvised a 

light. 

Our methods could not rival, then, the present-day device 
For flooding space with brilliancy, at meter-measured price. 

No turn of thumbscrew brought the gas, or quickly turned 

it down; 
The 'lectric current did not come from power-house in town. 

Laboriously we always toiled, cut wicks in many folds; 
Used beeswax, lard or tallow to fill these candle-molds. 

We'd twist, and double this soft cord, and thread it through 

the mold; 
Slip cross-sticks through the loops above, the wicking, firm, 

to hold. 

The wick that's through the small eye strung, and tied close 

to the frame. 
Prevents escaping grease. When cold, 't is cut to loosen 

same. 

Beef tallow for material, would best our purpose suit; 
But beeswax, muttonfat, and lard, made fairest substitute. 



298 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

We'd melt, and mix, and strain the grease ; and cool outside 

the door; 
Reject the refuse in the pot. Then melt and strain once 

more." 

When filled, the old brass candle-molds were set aside 

a while. 
When lifted out, the beauties, smooth, enhanced the mold- 

er's smile. 

Sometimes, if tallow was too cool, air-pockets caused a 

break; 
Then, oft, they'd stick fast to the sides, and some slight 

trouble make. 

When such contingency arose, we'd pass the molds through 

flame; 
And when they were at last released, we'd swab and fill 

again. 

And so, the process was kept up, till grease would disap- 
pear; 

And these old molds were passed along to neighbors, far 
and near. 

But we were quite as happy then, with ceaseless, homely 

work. 
As now — when luxury abounds — we seek, sometimes, to 

shirk. 

We did not wish to gain the goal — to toil not, nor to spin — 
We knew that sloth induced decay, and is the deadly sin. 

And so, the spirit of the past, the kindly message holds. 
Of industry, and peace, and joy, within these candle- 
molds." 



APPENDIX V 299 

The achievements of pipneers are credited, tacitly at 
least, to the men. I chronicle some of the efforts of the 
women which were quite as necessary to success as the ap- 
parently larger accomplishments in the fields of general 
improvement and progress. 

The Women's Work. 

From east to west, through hardship's wood. 
Who by the settler firmly stood ; 

And helped the pioneer make good? 
The women folks. 

Who planted garden, hoed the weeds, 
In hazel-stubble or in meads; 

And thus prepared for winter's needs? 
The women folks. 

Who grated corn the evening through. 
For breakfast "dodger," for the crew 
Of hungry hunters to review? 
The women folks. 

Who calmly rose at early mom. 

And "milked the mooley cow forlorn;" 
And watched the critters from the corn? 
The women folks. 

Who drew and scaled the many fish, 

The smell of which would make one wish 
Demand would cease for such a dish? 
The women folks. 

Who made the hominy and soap. 
Boiled sap for all the sugar "dope;" 
From maples 'long the river's slope? 
The women folks. 



300 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

Who carded, hetcheled, rolled, and spun, 
The wool and flax, each season's run, 
And from the work extracted fun? 
The women folks. 

Who knit the scarfs, and hoods, and socks. 
And washed the wool from many flocks, 
And dipped it in the dyeing-pots? 
The women folks. 

Who wove the cloth, and garments made. 
And, if considered up to grade. 
The work and worry were repaid? 
The women folks. 

Who patched the clothes of boys and men, 
Worn out and torn in wood and glen. 
And next day patched them o'er again? 
The women folks. 

Who fashioned moccasins and mits, I 

Of skin or jeans — so oft misfits — I 

Who knitting tales now sure befits? 1 

The women folks. 

Who picked the fowls for feather beds. 
Where weary workers laid their heads. 
Upon the one-legged, homemade beds? 
The women folks. 

Who was the quilter, washer, cook. 
Who carried water from the brook; 
And for assistance did not look? 
The women folks. 

Who doctored infant, youth or age, 
Who guided feet out on the stage; 

Or wrote the last word on life's page? 
The women folks. 



APPENDIX V 301 



Without a thought the work to cease, 
Who toiled in hopefuhiess and peace, 
That happiness they might increase? 
The women folks. 



The Linsey Woolsey Dress. 

The girls adorned in silken garb, 
Would shout with mirth, I know; 

If they could view the dresses worn 
Some sixty years ago. 

The airy puffs and folds, today, 

Are beauties, I confess; 
And mark a vivid contrast with 

The linsey-woolsey dress. 

The rough-goods fads in style, betimes. 
Come — reign, and pass away; 

But linsey-woolsey methods were 
Not what they are today. 

The tightly twisted warp — the woof 

Well beaten in the loom. 
Produced a cloth that wore like steel. 

And checked the "new dress" boom. 

The neutral-colored "home-made" dress 

Out-wore the present gown. 
The bolts of goods, and garments old, 

For years were handed down. 

We climbed the trees, and scaled the fence. 

And slid o'er cabin shakes; 
But linsey-woolsey did not tear. 

Wear out, or show thread-breaks. 



302 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The stuff for linsey dresses, then, 

Seemed coarser far, to me, 
Than roughest blanket for the horse, 

Which now we often see. 

The checks and stripes of browns, and blues. 
With yellow threads thrown in; 

They dyed, designed, and woven by 
Our grandma's, old, had been. 

And then the dress! So comfortless — 

So unbecoming, quite; 
The picture now returns to me, 

And tears bedim my sight. 

The childish form was buttoned in 

The waist, so tight and safe; 
The neck-band knew no softened frill, 

To ease its constant chafe. 

The arm eyelets were cut too small; 

The seams were rough and thick. 
To hold the arms akimbo, was 

A self-protecting trick. 

The tender flesh rubbed raw and sore; 

And caused us much distress. 
From close and constant contact with 

The linsey-woolsey dress. 

The snug security of sleeves. 

Outrivaled far, the waist; 
For greater ease, arms might have been 

In iron bands encased. 

Half to the elbow sleeves would creep. 

As tighter they became; 
The forearms swelled, discolored, and 

Weighed down as lead, the same. 



APPENDIX V 303 

Oh, chafing neck, and sore chapped wrists! 

We sense the pain and stress 
Of childish indignation, with 

The linsey-woolsey dress. 

The skirt was plaited, full and long, 

And could have spared, quite well, 
A width to loosen waist and sleeves; 

And discontent dispel. 

About the knees, a bunch of tucks, 

Resembling hempen rope. 
Served well to spread its ample folks 

In wondrous, circling scope. 

As children thrived, and forms grew tall. 

Tucks were "let out;" the charms 
Of nether limbs must be concealed; 

'T was not so with the arms. 

As wearers plumped with age and weight, 

And buttons, old, pulled loose, 
String-loops were tied in buttonholes; 

A sure, but unkind ruse. 

When nature finally o'er filled 

Straight-jackets in this class. 
The big girls' half-worn hand-me-downs, 

Fell to the little lass. 

The girls today, with frills and puffs. 

And loosely fitting sack. 
Can't comprehend our miseries, 

Of sixty years aback. 

I oft recall that once I stood. 

Too near the stove, in school; 
The old "long John" that ate the wood 

Cut by the four-foot rule. 



304 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

The smell, and smoke of burning wool, 

Filled all the air around; 
And so, the children in the group. 

Began to search — -and found 

The charred and crumbling yellow flakes, 

A sticky, woolen mess — 
Adorned the front-most portion of 

My linsey-woolsey dress. 

My heart sank low with deep regret. 
But thought, amid despair — 

"Perchance, I now can have a dress, 
Like girls more favored wear." 

But hope departed. I found soon. 

Too light the family purse; 
With no reserve of cloth, the same, 

Made matters ten times worse. 

Nor tears nor anger gained relief 
From poverty's dark woods; 

I was compelled to wear the dress 
Patched with a different goods. 

It seems absurd, as I recall 

The crushing, real distress. 
Induced by my aversion to 

The linsey-woolsey dress. 



APPENDIX V 305 



The Old Grindstone. 



The incidents of "airly" days, 

With pleasure we relate. 
The tales of hardships now long past, 

We sometimes may inflate; 
But thoughts of one experience 

Still chills us to the bone; 
'Twas when our elders called us out 

To turn the old grindstone. 

The dreaded summons often came — 

No matter what the hour; 
And other work or sport was stopped 

To furnish motive power 
For sharp'ning corn knife, ax or scythe, 

In relays or alone; 
We ached and cried the while we toiled 

Beside the old grindstone. 

When "working-bees" were being planned, 

The help for many a mile 
Would bring their implements, and chat. 

And "sharpen-up" meanwhile. 
They'd say: "Young ones should earn their keep. 

Their bacon and corn pone;" 
And then we knew our fate was fixed 

To turn the old grindstone. 

And how those "grown-ups" would bear on. 

And say to us: "Turn fast!" 
Till panting breath and flaming face, 

Warned them to stop, at last 
To try the "aige" and light the pipe. 

While we, with inward moan, 
Would wait the final smoothing work 

Upon the old grindstone. 



306 REMINISCENCES OF NEWCASTLE, IOWA 

No well-adjusted belts had we, 

Like those in use today; 
No treadle geared to do the work 

With ease akin to play. 
But hickory pole, on sawbuck frame, 

Supported discs of stone; 
At every turn the handle made 

Unearthly creak and groan. 

At times we saw our father with 

The cradle on his arm, ' 

Start from the clearing to the house; 

And we, in wild alarm, 
Would hide to shirk the grinding; but 

Our error soon was shown. 
For mother then at once was called i 

To turn the old grindstone. \ 

j 

We smile as we remember now 1 

The scenes of early life; ! 

The many hardships, hopes and fears, j 

With which the times were rife; J 

But this experience remains, 1 

And stands forth quite alone — j 

The agonizing hours we worked i 

Beside the old grindstone! 

i 
I 
\ 



APPENDIX V 307 

The Dugout. 



'O'^ 



The dugout was from hillsides' face cleared deep, 
Or from the river's cliff or juttiug ledge; 

With door bough-screened, and bed a leafy heap, 
The woodsman found, fulfilled, its restful pledge. 

The dugout was a boat — a wondrous shell, 

From log of goodly size, pealed clean and sleek; 

The chamber charred with skill, with care adzed well. 
For traffic use on bayou, pond or creek. 

The dugout was a cradle deep but rough; 

Halved, scooped and fashioned as the log canoe; 
With pillows piled, with quilts of fleece and fluff, 

A cozy nest supplied for babies two. 

The dugout was a useful bowl, likewise, 

From round, or square, or oblong block of wood; 

For trough, or tub, or any table size — 

For tanning-vat and manger-box were good. 

The dugout was from garden growths quite round — 
The handled-gourd, the turnip smooth, or beet; 

Cup, dipper, lamp — though cleared of pulp, still sound- 
Served not in winter, but through summer's heat. 

The dugout was a cave for garden truck; 

Beneath the frost-line, deep, 'twas dug with care; 
The stores were crowned with hay — no trust in luck — 

And so, preserved for family winter fare. 

The dugout, olden, many mem'ries call; 

To minds of pioneers they still are clear; 
Hardships and danger marked them; but withal — 

We happy-hearted were, and free from fear. 



RD 1.04. 














K^' 








•^0^ 







'••'^ ^^ ... "^-^ "• 



.^^ 



.^ 



0' 








e^^^ . -^ <<^ ^ ^^^ 
















^^--^ 




"^- A^ »N 







C" * 









■V^ /. 



^ 
•<?» 














.^' 



jA^ o " " ° 






•^.* ^ ^^ ^^ 










,iv 















^"^ .^^ 






. ^O 



















<•. ^^y 






\ % ^^^ -^-^ 



c^ . 



■p^ 



^oV 



-^0^ 









v^' 



•^v^^ 






':^/,/'X.'^>^€^^ -^'^ ^^ 



v^^ 













.f" 



V 



v^^ 



OOBBSBROS. M^m^^^-< ^ v^ O0(:\ "--^ 









cT Aiir,iJSTINE * « . o ' ,0" 






O^ "o » o' .0' 



